Fernando's Quest

Long long ago, in the frigid month of February, Ronaldo approached Fernando one evening, and described to him a notion which has wriggled from his subconscious into his working brain. This notion spread like a virus to Fernando, and he found himself infected and enamored of its honeyed promises.

“Rather than go to the convention we attended last year,” Ronaldo whispered into the Keeper's ticklish ear, “Let us up the ante. Let us attend Comic Con.”

“You mean the ginormous one in San Diego?”

“No. Don't be silly. None of us are prepared for that. I mean the one in Chicago, in early August.”

“Appealing, but why would we rather go there than to OddCon as last year?”

“For one, this year's OddCon looks like it will suck. For two, Norman Reedus will be there.”

“As in the actor who portrays fan favorite Daryl on the hit television series The Walking Dead?”

“The selfsame.”

“Well count me the fuck in.”

Invitations were extended to all of Fernando's usual running crew, and most of them could not fit a weekend of debauchery in the Windy City into their schedules. Alfonso and Cortez were both barred from attending, each due to his respective time and money constraints. Damien never spends money if he can avoid it, so his presence was ruled right out. Javier had plans to relocate his residence upon the expiration of his lease, which of course coincided timewise with the convention's scheduled dates. Katriona, who would be clutching a brand-new postgraduate degree in her fist, was abjectly broke and possessed a desire to seek some means of employment rather more prestigious than fry cook.

This left Teodor, who did agree to embark with the pair on this adventure, and the posse grew fifty percent in size on that day.

Ronaldo extended invitations to others at his place of employment, for some of his coworkers were self-described nerdish types and would, perhaps, leap at the opportunity to attend the convention. More practically, the more people which attended, the cheaper the excursion would be for all involved. Hemming and hawing occurred among some of these invited guests, and in the end only one of them committed to attending: Macombo, along with his life-partner Natasia, who shamelessly maintained one of the largest “girl-boners” for Mr. Reedus on this or any other planet.

Fernando was quite overjoyed by the timing of this convention, for it promised to be around the same time as the annual music festival which murdered customer flow, and so he would not lose as much material wealth as normal by choosing to shut down the store over that weekend. Alas, the fates conspired against him, and the dreaded festival was scheduled for the weekend immediately before the sojourn. But, it rained over that weekend, so people who would prefer not to squat in mud and beer vomit passed by the store in large numbers. Mother Nature had provided the Keeper a small boon to balance Fate's injustice.

Let us return to Wednesday night. Ronaldo and Cortez visit the store in the late afternoon. Ronaldo cavorts like a spider monkey the whole time, for he is an ardent Doctor Who aficionado and many panels and players upon this venerable program promised to be in attendance at the convention. Cortez is excited because of the nefarious plot which was to unfold for the running crew this night: the plan was to do burgers, and no one can deny the giddy lure of burgers.

At eight P.M., Fernando locks up the store and stands outside looking at the sign he had posted on the interior glass of his front door ten or so days back: “The Dominion of Movies will be closed August 8^th through the 12^th. Anything rented on the 7^th won't have to be back until Monday the 13^th. If I won't be here to run the store, I don't expect the movies to have to be here either! Be sure to stock up!” This advertising scheme worked, and Fernando earned “sick bank.” A pity Wednesday is a rent-one-get-one-free day, or the profits would have been even larger. As an added bonus, nobody had asked Fernando why he was closing up, so he did not have to provide any snarky answers or inane explanations to these questions.

As Fernando rounds the corner of the store, Ronaldo says to him, “You're on vacation.”

Fernando cannot help but to grin. “Indeed I am. It's a good feeling. It has been too too long.”

The burgers are had, and they are indeed delicious and fill the belly with warm, comforting meats. The crew that evening, which consisted of Teodor and Damien in addition to the aforementioned three, square off at billiards once the food is settled. Fernando's prowess at the game proves quite unexpected, but his skill is a mere shadow of his brother Alfonso's, and that of his father, who claims many first-place pool league trophies in his name.

At four in the morning the next day, Fernando is freshly-showered and has gathered all his supplies. Clothing, telephone, toiletries, a selection of D&D books on the chance that bones should want to be rolled, three sets of Munchkin cards, and Steve Jackson's Cthulhu Dice. These would tide over Fernando and Company in the hotel room, during those times when they were not attending the convention and had a desire to do something other than view hotel television.

They would depart early, hoping to arrive at their reserved lodging place before the metropolis's noonday rush of traffic. The plan was to use Teodor's father's Tahoe as their means of transport rather than a smaller vehicle, to ensure maximal comfort for all five party members. Ronaldo would drive, and Fernando would once again serve as his primary navigator, assisted by maps provided through the sagely Goo-Gol. The dissembling Gertrude Pauline Samson would serve as backup to the backup.

Once there, they would scout their environs and determine the feasibility of assorted means by which they could reach the convention center. Goo-Gol helpfully pointed out that the center lay but a twenty-minute walk from their lodging...as the crow flies. Men do not fly, not unless they are assisted by one or more wizards of at least the fifth level. An alternate means of reaching the center needed consideration, but this was a conclusion that could only be reached once they had gotten the an inkling of the lay of the land.

Men do, however, cruise. The terrible trio of Fernando, Ronaldo, and Teodor are on their way to collect Macombo and Natasia right on schedule, as the sun just barely peeks over the horizon and its rays burn the early morning fog off the twisting black highway which stretches before them.