Costa Rica. Went to the San Diego ComiCon (which was being held out of the country this year for some reason) with Jeff (pweent) and James (uberman). I'd been there before, for something else, but I don't remember what-- I just recognized all the places.
The 'Con was being held in a hotel on the edge of a lake; there was a town built out on the lake itself. We went into town the first night, looking for a little fun. Ended up bumping into a big drunken guy who was surly at first but ended up being kinda nice. We ended up following him to this theater that looked like a church, with bodyguards standing at its doors.
The big drunk guy tries to go in, but the guards first give him a drunk test. He passes-- apparently he's sober enough-- so he gets let in. We decide to go in, too, and the guards frisk us.
The theater was showing a play-- a musical-- about the Jackson family, starring Michael Jackson as himself and unknown actors playing the other members of his familar. The guards told us, as we entered: "Do not approach Michael. Do not address Michael. Do not attempt to touch Michael."
Michael is sitting on a throne at the back of the stage. (The audience was three-quarters in the round, in front of the stage and on both sides. We were seated high at stage right.) There were girls all around the throne, calling to him and being dragged away. Not sure if they were audience members who had violated the rules or if this was part of the play. I think it was the latter.
In the play, his family replaces him with a young clone-- a 1975 Michael who is cuter and not so strange. Young Michael gets a present from the family: a letter 'M' made from butter. He is thrilled with it, and begins to sing songs to it and about it, but the microphone isn't on so we can hardly hear the words.
Then, older Michael gets down off his throne, for he has noticed what his evil family has done. He storms into their midst and there's a big tense moment, complete with dissonant chord: whhhhhhheeeeeeeeenk!
We left; we have to drive back to America in my truck. We visited a scenic forest but the valley caught fire. American aircraft interceded and sprayed anti-flammables on the fire but we only survived because a rain storm breaks out. Unfortunately, my windshield wipers weren't working, so the rain made it unsafe for us to drive. We crawled along to a gas station and I tried to fix my wipers by attaching an amber wire to the battery. But with all the rain and such, I knew it would shock me, so we just shippe the truck back to America and flew home.
At the airport, we were greeted by a bunch of people I didn't know. One of them was named Dennis Rodenis. He wanted his lawnchairs back, but I didn't have them anymore. What could I do? What would I tell him?