Have you ever noticed there’s no good way to explain “Doctor Who” to someone who’s never heard of it without sounding like a crazy person?
“It’s a British sci-fi show about a time-traveling alien. But he’s a human-looking alien. And he spends most of his time in England and the people he travels with are mostly British people.”
I had to work this out last week while we were on vacation because of the big Twelfth Doctor announcement. The rental house we stayed at had both BBC America and a DVR, which meant yours truly got to watch the announcement special (and by “watch” I mean “fast forward until the important part of”).
Nobody besides Kevin could understand why I was so excited. “What’s Doctor Who?” they asked. Hence the above.
I sat on the couch, fast-forwarding, waiting for the big moment so I could get on with my vacation. Peter Capaldi took the stage. Kevin and I looked at the screen and went “who’s that?”
As much as I was hoping Chiwetel Ejiofor would land the role, I figured they’d go for a safer, more traditional pick. That said, Capaldi was not at all what I was expecting. And I’m okay with him, as long as it means a return to the classic, clever battles of wits the Doctor is famous for, and less of the hot twentysomething companions falling in love with him. Can we have another Donna now? Can we, can we?!
So, the new Doctor has been chosen, my in-laws remained baffled, and I spent the rest of my vacation reading Jane Austen and looking at seals and not getting a sunburn (hooray!).
Fast forward to yesterday.
We’re home from vacation. Stuff has been unpacked. Laundry has been done. All that remains is to go to the grocery store – only no, we have a lunch date, because we owe our friends for dealing with our ridiculous dog from another time we were out of town. And the sushi place we went for lunch happens to be next to a craft store, and since I’m rapidly running out of time to put together my postapocalyptic Wonder Woman costume for PAX, I figured I should stop in and look for leather for the cuffs and tiara.
The only leather they have actually came in convenient cuff-sized rectangles. I snagged the silvery leather and went to pay.
“What’s this for?” the cashier asked. She was a blonde teen, friendly, just trying to make conversation.
I hesitated. Is this where I give a harmless lie like “I’m making bracelets”? It’s kind of accurate. Or do I just tell the truth? Wonder Woman isn’t too bizarre, and she doesn’t need to know about the “postapocalyptic” part. But then I keep forgetting there are people who have never heard of “Doctor Who.” Maybe the fact that I’m making a Wonder Woman costume is, in fact, the dorkiest thing this girl has ever heard of.
Well, I’ll probably never see her again anyway. “Wonder Woman cuffs.”
“Oh!” She actually bent double laughing from surprise. “You making a costume?”
She nodded. “Awesome.”
Now I just need some shredded fishnets, a beat-up tiara, a lasso, and some extra awareness, and I’m all set.