Heaven in Houston

Fandemic Day 1 – September 14, 2018

My alarm went off at 7:30 a.m. I was already awake though. I had hardly slept at all. I had hardly slept the last two months for that matter as September 14th got closer. I couldn't remember ever being this excited for anything in my entire life. This was going to be the best weekend ever.

I jumped out of bed, got ready, and packed the car, mostly with Rooker memorabilia. I hadn't officially decided what all I wanted him to autograph yet so I brought a little of everything – some of my Rooker Funkos, all my Yondu, Merle, and Chick Gandil trading cards, and my all-time favorite Rooker picture printed out as an 8X10. I mapped out the directions to the NRG Center on my phone and swung by to pick up my best friend who I've known since kindergarten. After a little detour to Chick-fil-a to get some breakfast, we were on our way to Fandemic Houston.

My friend doesn't know much about Rooker. As far as his movies, she had only seen Vol. 1 and Vol. 2. I had sent her various Rooker videos on YouTube, though, for her to watch as "homework" like the Into the Night doc with James Gunn and the Inside of You podcast with Michael Rosenbaum. The whole way down to Houston, I told her as many Rooker stories as I could think of. She had a lot of catching up to do before she met the greatest person on this planet.

Things were going great. We were making good time on the road. My friend seemed entertained with the Doug Loves Movies podcast with the cast of Super, including Rooker and the Gunn Bros., that I was forcing her to listen to. Then things suddenly changed.

I had been having bad feelings about this trip even months before. Meeting Michael Rooker would be my biggest dream come true, but every time I paid for something for Fandemic, whether it was the hotel or Rooker VIPs or Sean Gunn's autograph, I was just waiting for the ball to drop and I wouldn't be able to go. I never really get to do anything fun ever, and in the back of my mind, something was going to go wrong. Something always does. And something did.

We were cruising down interstate about an hour outside of Houston. It began to rain. No big deal. I turned on the windshield wipers, and we continued laughing with the podcast on the radio. Then I noticed the passenger side windshield wiper was doing this little fish-tailing action every time it went across the windshield. I had just had new windshield wipers installed two days earlier, but I hadn't had to use them yet, and I thought, "You know, that doesn't look right."

Then I noticed the one in front of me started to do the same thing. Just as I opened my mouth to tell my friend there's something wrong with the windshield wipers, the rain started coming down like a monsoon and both wipers flew off my car with an almost comical synchronized whoosh.

Well, fuck.

Somehow, by the grace of God, I was able to cross over two lanes of busy interstate to the shoulder without causing a 15-car pileup. Once the mini panic attack of trying to safely get to the side of the road subsided and after I dropped a plethora of choice curse words, I turned on my hazards and began to think. What the hell are we gonna do?

It was raining fucking cats and dogs, and I couldn't see shit. Think! Plan B. Plan B. Wait, what was plan B? I wasn't expecting this. We didn't even have a plan B.

Should we just wait out the rain for a bit? Maybe it would stop soon. But I had already checked the weather earlier, and it was supposed to rain all day.

This can't be happening. The greatest day of my life and I'm stranded on the interstate in a deluge with no windshield wipers three and a half hours away from home. And to top it all off, I have a pre-purchased Sean Gunn/Rooker photo op in a few hours that I couldn't miss. This was not good.