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I was high key in the point of mass hysteria when I heard a roar erupt from the stage next to us, where the general panel (not the q&a panel where I was waiting) started and something inside me collapsed. I knew instantly it was him. My body went light. I got dizzy. I wanted to cry. All I could think was: in half an hour, I’m going to see Pedro Pascal with my own eyes.

Nothing prepares you for that moment. Again it was very similar but at the same time different from when I met Oscar.

I’ve loved Pedro Pascal since the Game of Thrones days. Through every era, every role, every interview, every phase of life, I’ve been there, got my own tattoos related to his characters or something of himself. I mostly stay on the margins of the fandom these days; quietly making my little chibis, loving him from afar, keeping him as one of my comfort people and away from all the toxicity there is sometimes around, cause he is after all the kind of person whose presence, even through a screen, has brought warmth to my life on hard days.

Anyways when he walked out, smiling like the human sun that he is, wearing that green Mexican football jersey, being everybody’s tío proudly taking pictures of the people at the crowd. I swear time bent in on itself. He sat right in front of me for around twenty-five minutes and it felt like one second. I blacked out half of it, don’t even ask me what he talked about, cause I have to rewatch that panel cause I ain’t got the faintest idea of what happened. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely function. I was warm, nervous, trembling like crazy, trying to stay present while my brain was short-circuiting.

But when I saw his thumb tattoo? That shit was crazy.

The same tattoo I have on my wrist, matching with my best friends. That almost broke me. I had to fight back tears right there in the crowd. Something about seeing that tiny familiar mark on him, in real life, after carrying my own version of it for so long… it felt too personal, too surreal, too full-circle to explain.

He noticed my drawing too. Pedro made direct eye contact because of my art. I was waving it up in the air and he did a grabby hand motion. Even typing that feels fake. He saw something I made with my own hands. A man who has inspired so much creativity and comfort in me looked back at me because of something I created.

Im again with this question: How do you move on from that?

And the craziest part is that I thought nothing could top my Saturday. I had already lived so many unreal moments at CCXP — seeing the cast of Spider-Man Noir, seeing Paul Wesley, seeing Matt Smith (which is its own insane story for another day). I thought the convention had already given me everything it could possibly give.

Then Mr. Pascal showed up.

And now I’m left with that same strange feeling I had after meeting Oscar Isaac — like it happened to somebody else. Like I’m a fraud retelling someone else’s memory. Like my mind refuses to accept that these things happen to me.

But they did.

I was there. I saw him laugh. I saw the curls up close. I saw the tattoo. He saw my drawing.

And most of all, I saw Pedro being exactly who everyone says he is: warm, playful, speaking Spanish as if google translate was talking in his ear, which was so endearing...

Nothing compares to that.

I think I’ll be processing this for the rest of my life. How was I able to see my two viejos in the span of 6 months after being a fan for over 10 years of both of them? Truly insanity.