San Diego, Sunday, July 12, 2015, Hard Rock Hotel — The final day of San Diego Comic-Con. I was heading into the Hard Rock Hotel, making my way to the front elevators, when I saw her, Sophie Turner, walking straight toward me. Of all the people in the lobby, she walked toward me. She had just come from the back elevators and was heading to the side doors where her chauffeured car, and a crowd of paparazzi, were waiting. The night before had been the famous Entertainment Weekly party at the Hard Rock, where all the A-listers gathered, and Sophie was still in her party clothes. Our eyes locked. I casually said, “Hi, Sophie,” and asked for a selfie. She bent down to my 5’3″ height, she was over 6′ tall in her 4-inch heels, and we snapped the photo. I told her she looked beautiful. She said, “Thank you,” before asking, “Are you walking with me?”
Walk with her? No, I needed to catch the elevator to head to my room. My flight was soon; I had to check out! We parted. Her smile fell. She softly said, “Oh, bye,” while keeping eye contact. Then I realized she wanted me to walk her to her car and maybe fend off the paparazzi. But it was too late; she had walked out of sight, and I couldn’t chase after her like an idiot. But I was an absolute idiot. And almost 10 years later, I still feel like an idiot. We could have been the bestest best BFFs.
