Comic conventions were definitely out of my comfort zone, the throngs of people, weird science fiction and fantasy things, adults dressed up in the oddest costumes. I mean, what was this thing?
Jumping to the side of the aisle, I made way for a large bulbous looking creature with monstrous teeth and a mask for a face as it bobbed awkwardly past.
There is a human under that, right?
No, I didn't get this fascination at all.
Fortunately, after hours of being dragged stall to stall and chatting up random people, Sam finally took pity on me. The hotel bar was in sight.
Hallelujah!
Honestly, I wasn't much of a drinker, but I needed a break from the weird.
Now, I really should have seen what was coming, but somehow, an optimistic seed sprouted. I should have weeded that noxious little bugger right away. Dammit.
Now I was stuck at a damned fan meet-up.
They were a Lord of the Rings group. Honestly, I didn't know a lot about Tolkien. I read the Hobbit in grade school because it was required, but that was the end to it. So I sat quietly in my little corner and nursed a beer. They were too busy discussing some complicated card game and the introduction of Lord of the Rings to the brand. I totally gave up listening to their conversation when Sam started lamenting the loss of the one ring to a singer. How any of those things were related was beyond me.
"Not into fantasy?" a voice asked.
It took a moment for me to realize that someone was trying to engage me in conversation.
"Huh, no, I'm just here as... moral support?"
The person chuckled. "I think your friend is getting along just fine." They tipped their glass towards me. "You, on the other hand, look like you could benefit from some moral support."
I snorted. "You're not wrong."
"Need another drink?"
I tipped my beer, and the dregs sloshed at the bottom. "Sure, I could go for another."
Nine hours later, I greatly regretted that beer.
A screech like a banshee had me bolting upright. The insides of my head lit up like a horror Christmas show, twinkling lights with angry, painful spikes of death. I immediately wanted to vomit.
"Please don't throw up on my ship."
Something tangy and cool was thrust under my nose, and the queasy sensation abated. Strangely enough, so did the headache. What kind of miracle panacea was this?
Slowly opening my eyes so as not to aggravate my tender brain, I found myself looking at a rather unremarkable brown beverage in a standard white porcelain cup.
"Drink. It'll help."
Who was this person again? Squinting, It took a moment for me to recognize them. Oh yeah, my moral support friend from the bar.
Cupping the offered drink between both hands, I took a tentative sip. Expecting the usual bitter brew, I was surprised at the invigorating flavor. It was cool and refreshing, the perfect soldier to protect me from last nights punishment.
"What is this? It's amazing."
"Wdimok," my new friend replied.
"Never heard of it. Where did you get it?"
"Omriodh."
Probably not my local pharmacy then.
Yawning, I stretched and took a look around. "Where am I? Is this your place?"
