Note: I'm working on some Eleventh Doctor stories these days, but I felt inspired by a friend to start this one a while back and intend to finish it soon.
I met the Doctor once. Actually more than once, but that's another story. No, no joke! Seriously! I know you'll all think I'm mad. I mean, he's a fictional British television character played by an actor. Nothing less, nothing more, right? Wrong. And I'll tell you why, too. Oh, I didn't understand it at the time either. Believe me, I questioned my own sanity.
It was in early February 2008. In the show, they'd finished up with the Tenth Doctor in 'Voyage of the Damned' back in December, I believe. I was, along with other fans, eagerly awaiting the spring series to start back up. I knew the Doctor's next companion would be Donna, as I'd read up on the online spoilers about that. In reality, I was dealing with upcoming tests at school, a lonely upcoming Valentine's Day, and the usual hussle of every day life. School, chores, family arguments, errands, friends, the works. Oh, and I live in America. Not the Doctor's favored choice of places to be, but he stops here from time to time, as he does nearly every other place on Earth. But anyway...
Science fiction was a part of my down time, still is. Something I enjoyed escaping into. Not to mention I happen to adore the Doctor. What fan doesn't? But it wasn't like it was something I was so into that I'd have considered myself a crazed fangirl at the time. My how things change. Its funny how meeting someone you admire can turn you from nice and cool, straight into an idiot in a split second. But more on that later.
One late Friday afternoon I was walking home from hanging at a friend's house a few blocks over. I went into a convenience store to buy a soda on my way. Now, I can't say what happened next changed my world forever. But what it did do, was change my perception of it.