Week 7: Not Quite Strangers

Truth be told, I’m horrible at talking to strangers. Putting yourself out there to openly receive  judgement from others can be terrifying. I also think it’s because there is so much pressure put on first impressions; either you click with someone, or you get shoved into the inescapable hole of uncomfortable small talk. That being said, as I stood in line at Chicago Comic-Con waiting to meet my favorite actor, Charlie Cox, to say I was nervous would be an understatement. My stomach was doing so many flips it could have been an Olympic gymnast, my heart was beating as if I had just run a marathon, and my eyes were threatening to overflow with tears. My mind was all over the place, but I remember thinking as I stood in line surrounded by other fans, “I can’t do this.” 

Because as much as I’d watched Charlie in films, television shows, or interviews, he’s still a stranger. Staff members could not stress enough that this was a photo-op, not a meet-and-greet, meaning I only had a couple of minutes to completely nail the perfect first impression. That is why while many people say that “your life is your movie,” I disagree. There is no cutting when the scene is done, and there is no editing when things do not go as planned. Instead, life is a live performance. Therefore, I created a little script and tried to rehearse my lines. I thought to myself, “Charlie, you’ve been a huge inspiration to me. Thank you so much for being here.” I repeated these sentences in my head over and over again, attempting to ingrain them into my mind so that I could not forget. 

Waiting in line lasted an eternity, but when everyone started moving, it felt like mere seconds before I was standing face-to face with the man that I had only been able to view through a computer/television screen before then. He looked at me with his full attention, extended his hand, and said, “Hi there, I’m Charlie. What’s your name?” Thankfully, I was in my right mind to remember my own name because that would have been seriously embarrassing if I didn’t, but at this point, the mini script I’d created while I was in line went straight out the window. I've come to the conclusion that I could never be an actress since apparently I'm unable to remember two sentences when under pressure. So, I entered panic mode; my brain, which was unable to shut off earlier, was nowhere to be found. However, before I knew it, my mind shifted into autopilot, and my mouth blurted out the words with a shaking voice: “Could you just squeeze the heck out of me?”

I will never forget the vibrant, lighthearted laugh he let out that washed away all of the nerves I’d been feeling. He didn't even need to respond. He just pulled me into a hug by tightly wrapping his arms around me, which I then wrapped mine around him. Afterward, the photographer quickly snapped the photo, and Charlie told me to have a great weekend before grabbing my attention by yelling out, “Hope I didn’t squeeze you too tight.” It was my turn to laugh.

After literally sprinting through the exit and over to the printing station, I snatched the photo off of the counter. The photo was the perfect way solidify this moment: Charlie was still mid-laugh while I had the biggest smile I’ve probably ever given spread across my face. I remember when two girls around my own age walked up behind me and asked if they could see my photo. I hadn’t even noticed that my hands were shaking until one of the girls grabbed my hands to steady them as I held out the picture. She gasped and asked me, “What did you say to get him to smile like that?” Honestly, I cannot remember what I said to them, but I know I never revealed what I said. Maybe I selfishly wanted to keep this moment to myself, or maybe I just wanted them to have an authentic experience themselves rather than create their own little mini scripts by replicating my words. Probably both.

It's important that I had forgotten the script that I rehearsed in my mind when I was waiting in line because there’s no way this moment would have been as nearly as memorable. It felt so much better being my natural, awkward self. I know I’m stating the obvious here, but strangers are only strangers until they aren’t. While I am 99.9% sure that Charlie completely erased his knowledge of my existence from his brain, I’m okay with that. I find comfort in knowing that at one point, we went from strangers to not quite strangers.