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After they had taken their seats, E began a round of questions and the discussions commenced.
It didn’t take long for me to start feeling a little edgy. Checking the time on my phone, I was surprised that this thing was still going on.
“Excuse me,” I whispered to Headphone Man. “How long do these usually take?” I hitched a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the stage, indicating my query.
Not only was I starting to get hungry, but I had chugged the contents of my water bottle after I did my turn around of shame before finding parking. In short, I had to pee. Badly.
He answered, “About an hour and a half when there are two guests like that.”
Jesus! We were only forty minutes in. “Perhaps you could point me in the direction of the restrooms then?” Dammit, there was the question inflection again.
Headphone Man gave me a series of directions which I tried to commit to memory.Go down that hall, hang a left, then a rightand then all I heard wasblah blah blah. Shit, I was not going to remember any of that, especially now that it felt like a tiny anvil was sitting on my bladder.
But I was determined. Surely, it wouldn’t be difficult to look for the universal man/woman signs.
Venturing off, I went down the hall he mentioned, took a left and then I forgot. I looked vainly for anything that read RESTROOMS or showed the little white human figures, but zilch. Shit, I was dangerously close to abandoning my search and redirecting my efforts and locating a bucket.
Obviously, it would have made sense to ask someone, but I found myself down a hallway where the only people in it seemed quite questionable. A series of elevators were on both sides of me, one which had a small group of folks piled inside.
“Do any of you know where I might find the restr—” But the damn door closed before I could finish.
Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. I turned, ready to ask him when I stopped dead in my tracks.
A cold tingle raced down my spine.
“I can tell you where the restrooms are,” the man petitioned. The cape he was wearing pooled around the back of his neck and the excess fabric fell forward on to his shoulders.
If his voice didn’t seem familiar enough, the foiled half mask did the trick. It was the asshole from the crosswalk.
“I’d rather wet myself, thank you,” I retorted. The only way a man like that would share helpful information was if he got something in return and I wasn’t about to entertain that thought.
“I’ve never had anyone refuse my offer…” His voice was suggestive and dripping with false sweetness. He took a step toward me.
My back was to one wall of elevators and if I took another few steps, I’d be able to tap the button and hopefully close myself inside before he followed me.
“I thought I made myself pretty clear with where I stood on that,” I replied, mostly buying time, inching my way to the button.
“You did,” he replied, pretending to recall my exact words. “But what good is a man with superhuman powers if he’s not able to persuade a girl?”
“Taking your Halloween costume to the next level, are you?” I sneered condescendingly. “And I’m a woman, not a girl, thank you.” I felt behind me, but no button.Shit.
Over his shoulder I caught movement. An elevator door opened with two men inside. One had an earpiece like I’d seen earlier backstage and the other wore casual street clothes. Our eyes connected.
For a moment I was lost to his gaze, Crosswalk Man all but forgotten. Until the asshole, who either hadn’t heard the elevator open or simply didn’t care, took a long step towards me, until I could feel his breath on my face.
“Leave me alone,” I gritted out as forcefully as I could. But I felt myself shrinking down the wall, not wanting him wafting his halitosis near me. But as soon as I had felt it, it was gone.
Crosswalk Man jerked backwards like he was rigged to a pully.
“Did you hear her?” the guy from the elevator began, tightening the grip he had on the man’s caped shoulder. “I thought that even a subpar cosplayer like yourself could hear, let alone read. Because if you could, you’d have noticed the signs every twenty feet saying that cosplay does not mean consent. And she’s not even in costume.”
In a swift movement, he turned to Earpiece Guy and said, “Take him to security and make sure he’s banned from reentering.” The man nodded his head, taking Crosswalk forcibly by the arm.
At the last second, the cosplayer turned to us and yelled, “Vider will have his revenge!”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy,” my rescuer called out. Turning his attention back to me, he asked, “You alright?” I could tell he was refraining from reaching his arm out to stabilize me.
Did I look that shaken up?
