“Oh, you’re talking about the movie?” I swallowed the last of my wine in a single gulp. “I don’t think you can rely on that movie as a reliable historical source. I heard they got a lot of the details wrong. By contrast, I happen to know the Jamie and Claire books are scrupulously researched.”
Genesie stood up so suddenly that her chair flew backwards onto the floor behind her. Her voice, after four shots of tequila, had taken on a certain movie-variety Gaelic twang. “Are ye questioning the director’s histor-r-r-r-ical accuracy?” she roared.
Now, in just about any other circumstances, I would have indeed questioned that particular director’s veracity on any number of fronts. But I am no fool. And at that moment, I was pretty sure I could see steam emerging from the ears of the enraged woman in front of me. Also? She was in possession of knitting needles.
She began pushing up her sleeves.
“I—uh—I’m sure Braveheart was tremendously, uh—Brave,” I stammered, scrambling quickly to my feet. “From—from his heart.”
“Couldn’t find a cab,” came a hissing voice from behind my left ear. “Who’s up for Jello shots?”
I grabbed my backpack and fled.
Fans & Fiction…
2:30 pm, February 24
New York City, USA
So, it turns out Sophia and Paul are right.
I am a novice. A lightweight. An abject beginner. A loser who gets her details wrong. And I am chasing a man to whom I have no right.
But not because he belongs to Claire.
The woman who set me straight is named Genesie. She’s a knitter who writes. I’m fairly certain she’ll never read this post, but, if she does… Well, here’s to you, Genesie.
She’s a complete expert on all things Scottish, with a particular major in Braveheart.
But right now I’m typing this on the subway on the way to the airport, and I don’t like the way a guy down at the end of the car is eyeing my laptop. I’m going to be massively early for my flight, so maybe I’ll find someplace to write the whole story out properly when I get there.
- ES
Comments: 2
HiHoKitty, Sapporo, Japan:
You crazy. Dream not crazy. I, too, wish marry Jamie. I envy you, Miss Emma.
SophiaSheridan, Chicago, USA:
Know what? Your single, obsessed fan is correct. You ARE crazy. What kind of weird person takes off on a trip halfway around the world in search of a FICTIONAL BOYFRIEND? Give your head a shake, Emma. You’re pretty critical of Paul, but at least he’s a REAL man. And you know what else? Paul, who is a much bigger person than you, says you need to educate yourself about Internet memes. This HiHoKitty person is playing you for a fool, as if you aren’t enough of one already.
WHY WON’T YOU CALL ME????
Holy crow. I am all set to go, with a boarding pass in my pocket and everything. I’m actually doing this. I can’t believe it.
I feel strangely calm. Of course, right after I got here and checked in, I threw up for about half an hour in the restroom. My cover story involved copious amounts of drinking while partying it up in Manhattan the night before, but strangely enough, no one asked.
It wouldn’t have been a total lie, anyway. I’ve decided never to enter a hotel bar again.
Fear of Flying…
9:00 pm, February 24
John Fitzgerald Kennedy Airport, New York, USA
Things I have learned since this journey began.
I am not crazy. Or, at least less crazy than some.
There are many, many people out there who know an encyclopedic amount about the world of Jamie and Claire. Most of them are warm and wonderful, but it is quite clear I will never know all they know.
It is not ever a good idea to get into an argument with said well-researched people. I always lose.
Perhaps the next time I try something like this, I should keep it to myself. The public humiliation element is perhaps More Than I Bargained For. (Resulting also in my growing need to Excessively Capitalize Items of Importance.)
I really hope this information is helpful, because these are probably the final words I’ll ever write.
My plane is due to board in five minutes.
And…and…I have a confession to make.
The truth is that I haven’t actually taken an international flight since I was in high school, when my Spanish class flew to Barcelona for a week. My financial situation has kept my travel pretty local since then. Not to mention the whole freaked out about leaving home thing.
Yeah——you know that little issue I had on the bus to Philadelphia? I’m fairly certain the feeling of being strapped to a seat at 40,000 feet has not improved since high school.
My earlier sense of calm has vanished. I’m pretty much in a state of dry-mouthed fear. There is no way I am going to make it to Glasgow alive. I’ve written a goodbye note to my parents on the back of my boarding pass, but it’s really small and I ran out of space before I got to my sister.