Dr. Who, or How I learned to Stop Worrying and love Da Bomb
Two weeks ago, my loving husband whisked me away from all of this, and down to New Orleans for the weekend. It was a delayed birthday present -- to take me to my 49th State. With Louisiana down, I have just South Dakota to go.
We landed at the Louis Armstrong airport after leaving eight fresh inches of snow up north.
Our first day on the ground, we traveled around some of the sights outside of the city -- Oak Alley and Laura's Creole plantation, and a swamp boat tour in a bayou. It was wonderful to be in a French area again, and the food! Oh! The food...
I had alligator, crawfish, shrimp, red beans, and étouffée. I had me some crab, some catfish, sweet potatoes, beignet, and coffee with chicory. Mmm… I miss New Orleans.
Perhaps, the most fun surprise was on Saturday, though. That is, it was a surprise for my hubbo. While researching what was happening when we were down there, I happen to see Comic Con was in town. "That's fun!" Then, I saw Matt Smith would be there, and I immediately bought tickets.
Matt Smith has just retired from being the eleventh (twelfth? Who's counting?) Dr. Who from the series of the same name. Dr. Who just celebrated it's 50th anniversary, and the Christmas special was the highest rated TV show in UK history. That was Matt Smith's last episode, and New Orleans was his first public appearance since then.
Everything I had read about him beforehand said how nice he was. I've really liked his interviews, as well.
Well, I went equipped with my Dr. Who-loving son's 11th-doctor's sonic screwdriver. We wandered around looking at the weirdos and the wares. There were some really clever costumes!
Before too long, it was time to line up for our photo op with #11! Here's a pic of ol' bow-legs, himself.
He was kept behind scenes as much as possible, to try to engender sweet innocents like myself to give up hard-earned cash for such an opportunity as this:
Those four seconds were pure magic. He leaned back in his director's chair, ready to put his hand out in a "peace" sign, as he did with all the other photos. I pulled out the sonic screwdriver.
"Could you hold this?" I asked.
"Certainly!" he answered, snatching it out of my hand and flourishing it in one fell swoop, almost like he had done it before.
"See ya later," was what he said as he handed the screwdriver back to me, but I knew he meant, "Will you be my Future Companion?"
"Thank you," was the only reply necessary. And, by it I meant, "Look behind you, you dolt! That's my Rory. -- I choose Rory."
We parted on amicable terms.