This Doesn't Happen in Real Life

Chapter 1: Fiasco at the airport

I nervously twitched my fingers as I got off the plane in San Diego International Airport. I looked around before me and breathed in the San Diego air…..which smelled like jet fuel, junk food, taxi exhaust, and some unidentifiable scents actually.

I didn’t care though, I was excited! After begging and begging my mom she had allowed me to go to the San Diego Comic Con for my 16th birthday present. Who cared about a car?! I would get to fangirl with who knows how many other whovians, sherlockians, merlinians, supernaturalists and so forth and even get stuff signed by the actors! I adjusted my hand painted shirt that said “Get in the impala Clotpole! Allons-y to 221b” Most of my friends back home didn’t get it… but I had a feeling my shirt would get some compliments in the convention!

I adjusted my blue neckerchief and walked down to claim my baggage like any good BBC fan would…… very, very, clumsily. You see like the good whovian I was, I was wearing my red All-Star converse but unlike a good Sherlockian I failed to notice a key detail about my shoes: they were untied. Therefore, as I’m sure you’ve deduced by now, I tripped.

In my own defense it was a pretty epic trip, I managed to avoid falling on the older lady in front of me but as I fell I kind of slid on some Mountain Dew (at least I pray it was Mountain Dew) that someone had spilled and I skidded into the baggage claim and landed on the moving belt. At this point my face was as red as Camelot’s flag but none the less my fiasco wasn’t over yet.

 I had landed on a blue duffel bag and was trying to undaze myself when I heard a thick Brooklyn accent yelling “HEY! Clumsy converse girl! Get the *moooo* off my bag!” I quickly jumped off the bag as a rather large, imposing (dare I say gangster) looking man approaching me. And he looked hopping mad.

I stammered some apologies and offered to help (though I didn’t know how I could help really). He then proceeded to glare at me. I saw my bags start to pass by on the belt and turned to grab them when he said “Hey, girl! I ain’t done with you yet!”

I grabbed my bags from the conveyer belt and turn to look at him “I’m sorry I squished your bag sir, and I understand that it was completely my fault, but it was also an accident…” I hoped my logic would console him before he decided to use me as a punching dummy.

Then I heard an all too familiar, but equally not good voice “Daaaaad, don’t go punching people in the airport or we’ll get thrown out again!”

I turned to see Vincent Marcello, basically he was the school bully an he’d always taken a certain interest in making my life miserable, especially when my best friends Lanie and Joen (I call him Joe though) weren’t there to stick up for me. I’d never seen Vincent’s dad before, but this totally explained the whole bully, bad boy, jerk personality he’d always had in school.

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, “What on freaking Gallifrey are you doing here?!”

Vincent smirked “We’re going to comic con of course.”

I wanted to feed myself to the Vashta Nerada at this point. Of all the people from my school that had to go to the event I’d been looking forward to for months; it just had to be Vincent. Then he made it worse.

“Oh and Callisto Cheeto (he used the nickname I most loathed), guess who else is coming? That’s right, Nick and Trent!!!” He gave me a mean smile, I just glared at him. Of course his doppleganger dallopheads would come with him. After all what would the “Terrible trio” be without all three dumbos?

His Dad looked proud that his son was obviously annoying the living daylights out of me. I wanted to quote Sherlock in saying “Face the other way, your putting me off.” Or better yet “Don’t talk out loud; you lower the IQ of the whole street.” But of course I only thought this in my head, I wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud or both father and son would pummel me into the ground.

I had been very slowly inching backwards this whole time towards the security station and upon giving the guard a sidelong glance he piped up “Everything alright here folks?”  I turned and said, “Actually I got lost and I was wondering if you could direct me to the taxis? (Code for: Could you escort me away from these two?)”

He nodded and said “Follow me miss.” And I quickly followed him away from the two bullies.

“Those two giving you trouble miss?” He asked as we walked toward the taxis lined at the edge of the airport.

“A bit, I know them from my hometown….. Thank you for helping me.” I gave him a smile and hoped I didn’t have lettuce or something stuck in my teeth from lunch.

“Just doing my job.” He said and opened the taxi door for me. I thanked him again and once I was in the taxi he headed back indoors. I told the taxi driver the address for my Cousin Francesca’s apartment, which is where I was staying for the convention.

My excitement had returned and I was thought this must be the joy Sherlock feels as he’s in the cab heading toward his next case. I settled into my seat and took out my phone, pulling up my Instagram where I role-played as an OC (original character). I quickly updated and spent the remainder of the ride thinking about the next plot line I could come up with for her and alternately daydreaming about the lovely time I’d have at Comic Con.