Otakon: A series out out-of-order episodes

This summer, I attended my very first anime convention- Otakon, in Baltimore. I was a little overly-excited, and spent months talking to everyone that would listen about how awesome it was going to be. I was particularly excited, because an artist I have been following for years would be there.

Fortunately, Otakon was every bit as wonderful as I was hoping it would be, and my friends and I had several interesting adventures. However, because I have the memory of a goldfish, I am unable to recall the precise order and timing with which each adventure occurred, so they will be presented to you as a set of mini-stories in whichever order I remember them.

Our Sleeping Arrangements
First of all, I must advise anyone reading this: If you ever have to book a hotel room for a large group of people, do not try to squeeze 10 people into a two-bed room. It is bad news bears, and terrible things will happen to good people.
Unfortunately, no one had warned us, so we attempted to do exactly that. We had two queen size beds, a television, a small kitchen area (which was really more of a narrow hallway with appliances squeezed into it), and a tiny closet that led to a tiny bathroom. We fit 10 people in here. It was just short of disastrous.  

 

Do not attempt this.

I Flashed Half of Baltimore For My Best Friend
 My best friend and I are both painfully awkward. I had spent most of Otakon drooling over awesome cosplayers, only to be far too shy to ask for a picture. However, on our way to the convention one day, one particularly fantastic Babydoll cosplayer (click the link if you don't know who I'm talking about). I urged Tiff to go ask for her picture, but Tiff refused, just like I had done countless times before. This was unacceptable. I could see how badly Tiff wanted a picture, so I took a deep breath and dashed after the girl like there was no tomorrow. What I had not taken into account was that I was wearing a tutu. It wasn't until I had reached the girl and asked her for a picture that I realized I had effectively shown everyone on the streets my purple lightning bolt panties. But it was totally worth it, because my best friend got an awesome picture, and I got over my intense fear of cosplayers.

Tiffyface and I Were Kidnapped By Slendy
If you've never seen the Marble Hornets videos, I suggest you check them out. As long as you don't mind never sleeping again, that is. For those better acquainted with Mr. Slenderman, here is my story-
I had spent a good deal of time prior to Otakon telling everyone how awesome it would be to cosplay Slenderman and photobomb everyone. Unfortunately, I lacked the resources to make that happen.
Then...
One day during our trip, Tiffyface and I were walking through the convention hall when suddenly, I spotted him. Tall, thin, long arms, and a pale complexion with no face at all- there stood the most beautiful Slenderman cosplay ever. So of course, my best friend and I rushed up to him and promptly asked for a hug. He responded by wrapping his long tendril arms around our heads in the most beautiful kidnap-hug ever.
(I later spotted him photobombing people. He was so awesome.)


Derpunzel
During our visit to Otakon, my friends and I developed the following rule-
Murphy's Law of Cosplaying: Anyone who should not cosplay, will do so.
We witnessed this law in action as we were browsing Artist Alley.
Tiffyface and I are both huge fans of the movie Tangled, and unfortunately, we had not seen many decent Rapunzel or Flynn cosplays at all. Then, just as we turned a corner in the Alley, I noticed a purple dress and long yellow braid. Excitedly, we both run over to the Rapunzel, and I tap her on the shoulder and begin to ask for her picture. To this day, I do not know how I kept a straight face when this girl turned around.
I have to give her credit. Her costume was pretty legit, but this poor girl had on the goofiest smile I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I was halfway through my sentence, and I had already committed to asking for her picture. She was thoroughly excited to comply, and we took her picture. We then thanked her, and quickly walked away, trying extremely hard not to burst into laughter at the incredibly awkward picture we had just captured.

Picnicing Under Overpasses

This is where it all began.

A picnic had been planned, and it was to be a grand one. There were six of us embarking on this adventure- Woogie, Gigi, Livvy, Charlemagne Jafar, Tiffyface, and myself. I had decided to bring a fruit tray, because hey- who doesn't love fruit trays?

The adventure began with me embarking for the first time to the house of Mr. Charlemagne Jafar. I parked outside, and he came out to greet me. With fruit tray in hand, I set out with him, first to Wawa, then to our agreed-upon picnic spot. Along the way, Mr. Charlemagne Jafar and I discussed several important and distinguished topics, such as the possibility of owning a pet raccoon.

Fortunately, Wawa was not very far from Charlemagne's house. We got there within a reasonable amount of time, he purchased two Wawa iced teas, and we continued our journey to find our companions.

Not long after, we reached a set of train tracks. Here we found the rest of our friends waiting for us. We all set off together to reach our picnic spot- a large patch of dirt under an overpass. To get to this magical place, we first had to walk along a rather lengthy section of train tracks. Off to one side of the tracks was a large area of woods and weeds. I happened to spot a group of tiger lilies out of the corner of my eye, and made a comment about them being my favorite flower. Out of nowhere, Mr. Charlemagne dropped everything he was carrying, and made a mad dash toward the flowers. He then promptly returned, clutching a lily in his hand and presented it to me. I was taken rather by surprise but accepted the flower, and soon we were on our way again.

After hacking through some rather tall grasses and shrubbery, we reached our destination. A rather un-glamourous patch of dirt alongside an incredibly skanky river. We laid out our food and began to eat.

In the middle of our meal, Mr. Charlemagne spotted a rather large leaf floating down the river. He decided it would be a most excellent idea to go charging into the river shouting "LEAF", and then to bring the giant leaf back to our picnic spot, shaking dirt and river skank everywhere. Including on my fruit tray. I still have not forgiven him for this.

We were all then coerced my Charlemagne and Tiffyface to join them in frolicking in the river and its dubious amounts of skank. Most of us did not want to swim, but between Charlemagne and Tiffyface, we were unable to resist. I personally was picked up by Charlemagne and carried into the river against my wishes. Much splashing, laughter, and possibly a few screams ensued.

Once we were all river-ed out, we climbed the banks and sat down to dry off. It was during this time that someone (my memory fails me as to who) threw cake. This started an all-out cake-throwing war between a few of us, and after 15 minutes of chasing and icing-smearing, we were all thoroughly covered in river skank and blue icing.

And what a glorious adventure it was.

Smoke Grenade Mushrooms

When I was just a wee little Elana, I remember asking my mother several times for Nerf guns. My momma bear, however, thought them an inappropriate toy for a young girl, and so refused to buy me any. So what did I do? I went to the neighbors' house and played with theirs, of course!

Many an afternoon of my youth was spent crawling around my neighbors' yard on my elbows and knees, Nerf gun clasped tight, keeping an eye out for bad guys. My jeans were covered with grass stains, there were likely a twig or two in my hair, and man, was it awesome. But- everything would soon change.

As I stood up and made for the enemy's hideout, I failed to pay attention to where I was stepping. Little did I know how dangerous of a mistake I was making.

BAM.

I stepped on a mushroom. But this was not just any mushroom. This was the type of mushroom, that when trampled expels a huge cloud of smoke (that were probably some type of lung-damaging spores, now that I think about it). And in Nerf-gun world, that translated to only one thing: a smoke grenade.

I fell to the ground, clasping my knee in distress as my fellow soldiers ran to my side. Older Neighbor tried his best to save my leg, but it was too late. No amount of "Does this hurt?", grass band-aids or poking and prodding would bring back my poor appendage.

Fortunately, being a female child, I was well-versed in melodramatically throwing myself about in mock-pain. I bravely dragged myself across the battlefield, and helped to attain victory once again for the good guys.