Wigging out

wiggly good timeMy daughter and her boyfriend have just finished their seven week trip around the US and Canada with a day at Comic Con in San Diego. They got into the spirit of the event, dressing up as Princess Leia (the original version with the buns and white dress) and a Jedi warrior. They also met some really cool people, including Adam Savage from Mythbusters fame.

Before we got the opportunity to move to New Zealand this year, we actually had Melbourne Comic Con in our sights.  Like the kids, we’d dress up and enjoy the atmosphere and meet famous people. I’ve only just realised the one little issue with that – I don’t handle meeting famous people very well.

Last weekend, we dropped into our local Countdown on the way home from pokemon hunting a lovely afternoon walk. NIH and I were standing at the packaged salad section of Fruit and Vege, debating which salad dressing to get for the coleslaw (Ranch is nice but Japanese Sesame adds a whole new dimension IMHO) when a guy with a grandma-dorky style light blue beanie walked past and started massaging the avocados.

I stopped mid-sentence. My jaw dropped. My eyes bugged out of their little sockets. NIH looked at me quizzically.

“Oh. My. GOD,” said the little voice in my head, panting slightly with excitement, “That’s Anthony, the Blue Wiggle!”

I turned slowly to look at NIH. I thought I whispered but it may have been louder (apparently I stage whisper – you know, so the people at the back of the room can hear).

“OH MY GOD THAT’S THE BLUE WIGGLE”

Once NIH registered that I was not having a stroke – just a ‘moment’ – he looked over where I was pointing with my eyes. Or the salad dressing. It’s all a blur, really.

“Oh. Yeah,” he said casually, “So it is.”

I then proceeded to back AWAY. Yep, back away. I could no more front up to a famous person and ask for a selfie then do over 80 squats in five minutes (but that’s a story for another blog).

Moving slowly, so as not to frighten the Wiggle (although I believe he had headphones on and was probably bopping away to Big Red Car or some other major hit) I backed up to the Nuts Section (appropriate) at the back of the shop so I could still see him but not run the risk of having him see my dopey oh-my-god-someone-famous face and know that the weird older lady limply holding two bottles of salad dressing had figured out he was “someone”.

Was it him? I’m sure it was him. I mean, I wouldn’t know for sure unless I just walked up and said “Hey, aren’t you the Blue Wiggle?”. Or possibly both flatter him and show my age with “Hey, didn’t you used to be in The Cockroaches?”. But I think we’ve established either scenario was never going to happen.

Meanwhile, NIH thought the whole thing hilarious. In many respects, I’m fairly confident. I can speak in public (even recite my own poetry) and have been known to get up on stage once or twice. But saying hello to famous people is not within my range, it would seem.

The rest of the quick shopping trip saw me pretending to be calm on the outside whilst the little voice in my head was still shouting “Oh. MY. GOD!”, sounding more and more like Janice from Friends.

In light of this revelation, it seems attending Comic Con is not such a great idea and would render me speechless to the point of jibberish. Quite possibly I’d spend my time back-peddling away and hiding behind whatever I could, whilst my inner Janice went wild.

Maybe there’s a Nuts Section there as well.

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