From Chi to Cali: A Henry Cavill Fan Fic

Part 1: Comic Con

I had my reservations about cycling, but when I saw all the traffic, I knew I'd done the right thing. The Comic Con was at Navy Pier this year. I griped inwardly when I found out, but what could I do? It's more expensive to do anything in Chicago. The taxes kill. I'd barely had enough for the weekend, and I lived here!

I had managed to score the ticket...for some, the ticket. I had a full weekend pass, and I had managed to get a Henry Cavill package. I was actually going to finally meet the guy and get an autograph...for a hideous amount of money. I saved for months to make this happen. My family, friends and fitness program kids knew all about it: eBay, extra hours whatever. Anything on one's bucket list is a journey-you write it (decide), you make it happen (save/plan), you experience it (actually do it), and then check it off (sigh with relief and hopefully remember it well). 

Okay, this is it.

I parked my bike between the bike rental rack and the city bus stop, and made my way to the convention center. I look down at myself.  I was in a custom designed tee, and stretch cargos. I tightened my leg pouch, tied my shoes and tried to not get nervous as I joined the fray of fans who were going in. Hell, my heart was racing. He's just a person...and his heart certainly isn't racing over me...

Ah, better, reality check.

I finally get inside, and I get my VIP pass. I stood in line awhile, trading my print out for a shiny badge on a lanyard proclaiming importance and who was important for me to see. I felt like a groupie as I looked at my badge with Cavill's likeness on it. Badged and cuffed, I moved further inside, looking at the sea of autograph booths, costumes and designated food and sales areas. 

I didn't feel like buying. Truthfully, I didn't have alot of spending money. Today, I would look around, but maybe later or tomorrow I would buy something before it all ended. Many sellers mark down heavily on Sunday so they have less to pack and take home.

I went into the bathroom. I look like a kid, I thought to myself. I applied my honey flavored gloss. I did my colored gloss, mascara and eyeliner at home and the bike ride had not destroyed my efforts. I looked at my activity tracker. Almost time. I stepped out, and breathed in the popcorn and pizza. "Here we go." I told myself.

I stood in line quietly, at times playing a game on my phone, and at times observing the people in line to see Cav. For some reason, I could never call him Henry like so many did, nor did Mister anything seem to fit either. I always thought of the movie "Ever After" when Danielle called the prince Henry, which was his first name, and the whole crowd at the ball gasps in outrage. Nope, can't do it. I looked at young girls who giggled and whispered about how cute he was, teens and club beach dressed twenty-somethings about how he sexy was, and women murmuring a mixture of the same. Never I had a heard so many "oh my God's" and "oh my gosh's" and "I was like...mmmh's!" in my life. None were wrong, though. I looked down at myself. All he'd see from me is that I worked out, and I really, really, liked my guns. I worked for those biceps! Yes, I was built that way. I taught athletics and fitness at different sites, so I had to be fit, but with that kind of grit and living in "the hood" has its own grit. I sure wasn't Vanity Fair, Marie Claire, nor was I Essence or Ebony. Victoria's Secret? Ha! But I made it...

My phone rang. "Yes, Chandra?"

"You're there, Janelle?!"

"Yes."

"Oh, my God!"

"I'm in line."

"I am so jealous, Janelle!" Chandra squealed. "And so happy for you. Tell me what he smells like!"

"At most cons, VIPs don't wear anything so as not to trigger allergies."

"Oh, Ms. Comic Con, here!" Chandra teased. 

"Oh, I'm moving up here," I told her. "Let me call you back, okay?"