And so the Sam/Tom shit nears the fan, pushed there by a group of twenty- and thirty-something men behaving like fifteen-year-old girls.

And who should have kept her big fucking flapping mouth shut? The one sleeping next to them should have.

Fuck.

Well, here I go. Fully in costume (save the unfinished collar), I'm headed to the Zieg for the last NYLine-related time, armed with sweater, camera, and a red shoulder bag that happens to match exactly the blood on my right heel. Even in 2000, my costume heels didn't disagree with my feet this badly.

But this is it. Really it. Six hours on line, then three in the theatre, and then the show.

It's happening.

Total insanity. There's our line in the usual location with normal people behind us, and then the line for the 6pm radio showing by the street. The canopy is down, most chairs are gone, and ninety minutes after putting on my shoes, the balls of my feet kill. As of right now, I'm the only Amidala incarnation - lots of Jedi, a Stormtrooper, a Clonetrooper, and Christina, Sith chick. UGO is here; Triumph was here, and I'm pretty sure I'll end up being on. My official points are 735 (835 for seating) - it should be 800 (900) by my count, but I don't really care.

Boys don't understand petaled gowns. Or skirts. Or heels. Geez.

It's happening.

Hopefully this is right. Cat gave me the line number instead of the gate, so I may or may not be at the right gate. It's very funny to travel at rush hour, when everyone else on the train is decked out in suit and tie, all dark, all somber, and here I am in an off-white Star Wars gown and sweater, cape over my arm, with a red bag and flipflops. Can only imagine what the suits think of me. I had one guy congratulate me on my way upstairs - ostensibly on having married - and I thought jokingly of issuing a spoiler warning. Haha.

I'm rather surprised at how unexcited I am right now. I mean, I'm excited, but not as much as I'd been when I left home, and not as much as I'd expected. It still doesn't feel real, I know that's part of the problem - it's more like I spent three hours and a half-bottle of hairspray preparing for publicity shots - which I did do, but it should be so much more!

Amit said as I was leaving that I was fifth after the final count, which is alright, I guess, but I really would've liked to beat Byron out. Rick was tenth, and he's not sure where he's sitting - Alan wanted to be with him, and I know Alan wanted the balcony - which I don't. I'd really like to be with the staff and the top points people, simply because we've spent so much time together, but I guess it's up to Amit whether we have to stay together in practice.

I'm hungry.

Where's Cat?

We're in. We've been in, of course, but I've been too busy running around to write anything. Cat's bus was late, which made my inability to find the arrivals gate completely unimportant. I'm being a rather horrid hostess-type person, hanging out with the line kids instead of her, but she said it was okay, so... I dunno.

Gwen and I have the same gown (haha), giving rise to many stupid jokes. We're apparently the only two Amidalas in the house, which is surprising. There are actually very few costumers, mainly line people.

I'm trying not to get sad about the end of the line, trying to stay purely excited about the movie. But it is unfortunate that the very event for which we came together is the cause of our going apart. Not that I'll lose contact with these guys, but IMing is nothing like hanging out in 50º rain being dirty.

Am the proud owner of a Padme-Luke-Leia standee, a BMA poster, a novel, and a BMA membership with four Magic of Myth vouchers. Sweeeet. Coming in fifth is good. :)

Sitting next to Amit and his brother for the movie - J109. Bit of a coincidence, that. Of course.

And I think Mom's going to a midnight show. I knew it'd happen.