Drive

I am way better than this.

I failed my driver's test as a teenager after turning a three-point-turn into a five-point-turn, failing to back up 50 feet without drifting into the center of the road, and, um, nearly hitting a jogger. (In my defense: that jogger came out of nowhere.)

I cried for 45 minutes and made my mother take me to Dairy Queen for a sundae before going back to school for the rest of the day. I still feel like this was a perfectly reasonable response.

I passed on my second try a few months later, drove around Martha's Vineyard for two years, then took a 15-year hiatus upon moving to Boston. Believe it or not, public transportation around here used to be pretty reliable. But between the fare hikes, the busses on the schedule that don't exist in real life, and Baby Razor's short temper, I realized it was finally time for me to get back behind the wheel.

Fun fact: If you've kept up your license, you can just get in the car and go, even if Bill Clinton was president the last time you started an engine.

The thing that surprised me the most was how comfortable I felt, even with Baby Razor in the backseat yelling, "Why you sitting in Daddy's seat? Don't sit in Daddy's seat!" (Another good reason to drive: gender equity.) I was like, "I thought this was hard? Why?" Well, between my undiagnosed-at-the-time anxiety disorder and Martha's Vineyard's complete lack of signage and traffic lights, 16-year-old me thinks 34-year-old me can suck it.

Plus I always had the crippling fear that I was the worst driver on the road, which is a nightmare for a perfectionist like me. Boston has cured that fear. I am nowhere near the worst driver on the road. I don't talk on the phone or text, my eyesight is fine, I use turn signals, and I don't treat a double yellow line like a slalom course.

What I've learned so far is that most of my Driver's Education was totally useless. In the real world, no one cares if your turn is 3-point or 5-point. You never have to back up 50 yards. And joggers have sidewalks in the city. Also: people only remember how to parallel park until the moment they're given their license, at which point everyone reverts to being horrible at it and avoiding parallel parking spaces at all costs.

There is really only one rule: Don't Hit Anything. My visual-spacial skills are sketchy at best, so I was worried about this, but age, wisdom, and a healthy sense of "This car is expensive so don't fuck it up" have served me well so far. Okay, I've jumped two curbs, but I think that was just a bad morning.

NY ComicCon, Quickly

I have an actual wrap-up post going up on Paper Droids soon (ETA: Here it is!), so this is just the goofy shit more appropriate for a blog I haven't managed to update since June.

Adorable ladies. They even had rebel alliance earrings.

So Mel, Jane, Amanda, and I hit New York ComicCon last weekend. Thoughts and impressions:

1) So. Fucking. Crowded. You know that feeling when you're hemmed in on all sides by people pushing you in multiple directions and you know that if something goes wrong, you're getting trampled to death? I got to experience that MULTIPLE TIMES. I realize that cons are always going to be chaotic, but there was zero crowd management and it was occasionally terrifying.

2) Clueless con staff. Dear organizers, Please give your volunteers maps, schedules, and lessons on how to ask people to form a line. Sincerely, everyone.

3) Numbers 1 and 2 led Mel to say something I never thought I'd hear: "I miss San Diego." Yup, it made SDCC's chaos look like a model of planning and organization.

4) Okay, when we weren't waiting half an hour to pee, we did have lots of fun. I met Sir Terry Pratchett! And, predictably, I went totally blank and was like, "Hi. Hello. Hi." But he told me I had a pretty name, so that's good! Jane held it together a little better and told him he inspired her to become a librarian. They had a moment. I got a little verklempt.

5) I had a ticket for a photo op with Stan Lee, but he cancelled his Saturday appearances. But! On Friday he walked right past Jane and I, so I can say I got to see Stan Lee, which is still pretty cool. We also walked past Richard Speight and Rob Benedict, two actors from Supernatural. They are wee pocket men. I heard Jane say, "Oh, look the guys from Supernatural" before I saw them, and given that my most vivid memory of SDCC is nearly being crushed to death by Jensen Ackles superfans, my first reaction was DUCK AND COVER. Thank goodness it wasn't them. I'm pretty sure the con staff were not trained in riot management.

6) During Saturday's crowd crush, a guy dressed as The Monarch ended up squashed up against Mel and me. "Um, sorry if my shoulder pads ding you," he said. "And also if I fall over on you. I'm not used to walking in heels." Me: "Welcome to the club." Meanwhile, I'm praying that we'll get to the escalator safely so my last conversation on earth won't be with a guy in a yellow felt suit.

7) Speaking of cosplay, here's my goofy self posing with She-Ra:

I love Catra photobombing.

She was my favorite that I saw. Looking at the costume round ups from other sites, I feel like I missed a ton of awesome costumes, especially this Captain Marvel.

8) Jane and I were sitting together when a guy dressed as Deadpool walked by. "That is a really bad Spiderman costume," she noted. It took me a minute to realize she was serious. And thus a running gag was born. I was like, "That's Deadpool?" and she was like, "WELL, THAT'S JUST CONFUSING."

And then we started wondering if guys who wear full-body spandex costumes tuck or not. We decided some do and some really should.