The most epic part of the weekend would probably be the beach trip that Friday with The Other Cosplay Group. (Uh, the not-OCD-one.) The beach itself was mediocre, really. It was too old to go in the water, and we ended up being really late, due to the fact that ten minutes from the destination, my GPS decided to direct us halfway back to Riverside. It's what we did there that made the day for me. We played Red Rover. That was my shining moment of glory in life, because I am the Michael Jordan of that game.
After persuading the group to play, I was made a team captain. (This was probably a mistake on the groups part.) My team proceeded to tear the other to shreds - in some cases, almost literally. My catchphrase for when people would bounce backward after running into the wall that was my arm was "YOU CAN'T BREAK ME" and whenever I would tear my way through the other teams linked arms I would chant "I AM KING". Unfortunately, every great ruler has their downfall, and toward the end of the game, I met mine.
For those who don't know, when a person successfully breaks through the team that called them over, they are allowed to take back a person with them. At this point, the opposing team was down to only two people, and when one of the people had managed to identify and break through one of our weaker links, she thought it best to bring ME over to their team. Soon enough, I was faced with the daunting task of breaking my own empire. For a moment, I thought I could do it.
But the team knew me, they knew my method of running full force, and knew that the way to defeat me was strategy. I threw myself at the link of arms, as usual, and pulled a good half of the line to the ground, but they didn't break....? Why? Because they hadn't resisted falling, they decided instead to fall with me and watch me breathlessly crawl on my hands and knees screaming "YOU... CAN'T... BREAK... ME..." pulling them with me, their chain still not breaking. When they realized I wasn't giving up, they began running forward - forward for them, that is -sending me hurtling backward, the taste of defeat - and sand - poisoning my mouth. Needless to say, they had stopped me, and I was once again, a part of that team.
In the end, it was my team - my original team - that won, but that one bit of failure disappointed my overly competitive self. And this, dear friends, is why I should never be allowed to play games that I am actually good at.
The rest of the weekend was not nearly as amazing. Oh sure, there was filming, a movie night, more filming, and other fun, but nothing quite like Red Rover.
I also managed to hurt myself quite a bit amongst all this. Aside from my bruises/scrapes from playground games, I also got a battle scar from the first day of filming with the OCD. While attempting to zip up Patrick's too-small-for-him boots, a chunk of my finger was ripped away - along with his dignity - leaving me with a hole the size of a pencil eraser in my flesh.
Fun stuff.
I'll let you in on the not-so-fun stuff in another post.
