Star Warrior

Some of you know how hard it can be to get me out of my house once I get settled. I have a comfortable routine (some might call it a rut), and why go messing with that in the scary outside world?

But many of you also know that I'm susceptible to peer pressure, and if given enough time and a semi-persuasive argument (usually something like, "Aw, come on.") I'll flip-flop and decide to venture outside my compound in search of excitement.

Which is what happened Sunday. The night before a friend texted asking what I was doing and saying that I should go to this Star Wars convention in Orlando the next day. Responsible me realized that I had just spent a lot of money getting my brakes fixed a week ago, and I was heading back to Atlanta soon, so I probably shouldn't spend the money. Besides, I had stuff I needed to finish up around the house on Sunday.

A few hours later I realized I had completed most of my responsible weekend stuff already, and while I was broke, I did have a credit card, and I wasn't really doing anything Sunday anyway, so why not?

Which is how I found myself in Orlando the next day in a convention center full of Star Wars nerds. We got there late, so we missed a lot of stuff, but I did get to pose for some funny pictures, something I couldn't do at home, apparently.

But on the other hand, if I stayed at home Sunday, I wouldn't have been coughed on and jabbed with light sabers in a herd of people every third step.

There were tons of these. Yep, lots of bearded dudes wandering around. But yeah, there was this whole parade of R2s that people made and customized that would roll around and beep and do magic and grant wishes and stuff. That was pretty awesome.

Here's another blurry photo.

Many people went in costume. Apparently I went as either "Stunted Man-Child" or "Florida Retiree." Here I am trying to eat one of the frogs from Jabba's bong. It didn't exactly come out right.

Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak.

As you can probably tell by now, I had definite ideas behind the photos, but the execution didn't always work out. These (since they were taken by someone else) look a lot better than the pictures I took of my friend. Here's an excerpt of a conversation on the ride home:

"This one's blurry, too! And..Hey, this one, too. What the hell's wrong with you?"

"No, no, it's fine. You're looking at it on your phone. Wait til you see it all blown up on the computer. It's gonna look awesome."

"Did you take this one in a hurricane?"

"Aw, it's gonna be great. Just wait and see."

"You need to go to a doctor or something and get your shaky hands checked out."

"It's an action photo. Its supposed to look blurry."

So yeah, uh. Sorry about that. And while we're at it, sorry that my terrible sense of direction made us wander around the convention center for about 30 miles looking for the parking lot and - Hey! Let's see some more pictures!

WHOOO! SPACE SPRING BREAK! I'M DRINKIN' WITH HAMMERHEAD!!

 

Chewie made from Legos. I don't know why that made me grab my pee-pee.

When in doubt, the double thumbs up is always a picture classic.

The crappiest robot.

Like most kids that grew up in the '70s, I was obsessed with Star Wars, even eclipsing my dinosaur mania. I begged for or bought anything that had that logo on it, and it was pretty amazing to see a whole convention hall full of everything I had ever owned or lusted for as a child.

Other than the hefty admission fee, I didn't buy anything, mostly because I really couldn't. I did see a copy of the first issue of the Star Wars fan club magazine my parents got me as my first magazine subscription, but I couldn't justify spending money on it since all my back issues will probably turn up at their house someday.

So was it worth driving forever and spending money I didn't have to wander around in a convention hall for three  hours taking blurry pictures? You do see that picture of me hanging out with Hammerhead, right (a figure I never had, by the way - get on that Mom and Dad)? Of course it was worth it.