Well, you see, I was going to go. I was driving down the highway in my Porsche when I saw a little kitten standing on the side of the road. Afraid it might dart into traffic, I carefully pulled over and rescued it.
So then the kitten (who I had, by this time, named Thermopylae) were cruising along in my Porsche, jammin' to some tunes when suddenly the car in front of me applies its brakes. Of course, my Porsche being the awesome car that it is, is able to come to a very smooth stop and doesn't hit the crappy little junker in front of it.
Traffic is now inching along very, very slowly. Thermopylae makes a rude joke about it being slower than Sarah Palin's baby (did I not mention that my kitten can talk?) and I turn to scold him for such an awful comment when out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. I look up to see David Hasselhoff running through traffic in nothing but a speedo and a leather jacket.
Understandably, I lock my car doors.
The Hoff was apparently what was slowing traffic, because all the cars past him resume moving. I'm about to make a getaway when suddenly he jumps onto the hood of my car!
Thermopylae, being a cat, and thus having very good hearing, remarks that Hasselhoff seems to be singing Rock The Casbah, but has the lyrics wrong. Thermopylae and I then argue over the correct lyrics for a few minutes whilst the Hoff performs some strange kind of dance on the hood of my Porsche. I've never seen the dance before, but it seems to involve a lot of thrusting and high kicking.
I'm considering calling the police on my brand new iPhone when help arrives in the form of David Bowie circa 1970. With a bright red mullet and full Ziggy Stardust attire, he also hops up onto my car's hood. The weight of these two men on the hood might make some car owners flinch, but I own a Porsche, so of course nothing was damaged.
Bowie stares down Hasselhoff in what may be the longest staring contest I have ever seen.
Seeing that there is no immediate threat to myself, I roll down the window and pop my head out.
"You guys!" I call to them, "I have to get to MomoCon! It's going to be awesome!"
"MomoCon, you say?!" The Hoff says, whipping his head towards me (and simultaneously losing the staring contest) "I was just on my way there myself!"
"So that's why you're dressed that way..." I murmur to myself, not familiar with much anime.
"Of course it is!" Hasselhoff exclaims while Bowie does a victory dance for winning the staring context. "Isn't mine the best Inuyasha cosplay you've ever seen?"
A chain of events then occurs that is much too complicated to explain here. Anyway, so I'm driving along with Thermopylae the talking kitten, a partially naked David Hasselhoff, and David Bowie is stuffed in my trunk. I can see the MomoCon building on the horizon, but it's not that easy, no!
Using his super powers, David Bowie breaks out of my trunk (though my Porsche is unharmed, of course, because it's a Porsche) and stops right in front of my car. I come to a sudden (though smooth, because it's a Porsche) stop to avoid hitting the rock god. David Bowie stands there, unmoving, so I roll down my window.
"What is it?!" I call out, frustrated.
"I gotta pee!" He sings back, while an awesome guitar riff fills the air. He sings a few ridiculous (but musically talented) verses about needing to whizz, and then launches into an epic guitar solo. Though I don't want to stop the god at work, I need to get to MomoCon, so I interrupt him and say that there's a 7-11 at the next exit. Bowie makes a strange squeeing noise and hops into the backseat alongside Hasselhoff.
While Bowie takes a tinkle, I wander around the 7-11 convenience store (I don't need to refuel, I drive a Porsche). Hasselhoff asks me to buy him a snack cake, and after begging me for a few minutes and throwing me the puppy dog eyes more than once, I finally buy him a Twinkie. Thermopylae, seeing a chance, asks me to buy him a Red Bull. Unable to resist the allure of a kitten, I comply.
Bowie, who had returned from the bathroom during this, now begins begging me for everything in site. A small bag of Cheetos, a case of beer, a candy bar, a lighter with Dale Ernhart Jr. on it, a bouquet of flowers, a frapuccino... If it was in that store, he wanted it. I think he also asked for the cashier, but he was talking so quickly that I may have been mistaken.
Of course, I have plenty of cash (I own a Porsche), but I don't want to spoil Bowie, nor do I want to have to make another potty break. So I agree to buy him only two things. He goes through an intense elimination process that combines elements of both reality television and hard mathematics until he finally decides on a cola and a 3 musketeers bar. I make the purchase, but by now Hoff has finished his Twinkie and complains of being thirsty. Haven gotten Bowie a very big soda cup, I tell him to share with Hoff. They both exchange disgusted look and begin simultaneously whining about cooties, not wanting to share, it not being fair, Thermopylae getting his own drink, etc. Frustrated by all the whining and hyped up on Red Bull, Thermopylae attacks them and knocks them out. We carry them back to the Porsche and strap them into their seats and resume driving.
We finally reach the building! I'm so happy that I made it that I could cry. I don't even care that I'm late.
Thermopylae and I walk into the building and are greeted by the bouncing melody of Hava Nagila, and a large crowd of people dancing in a circle. I've never been to a convention before, but something tells me this isn't correct. I look at the sign posted by the entrance which reads "HAPPY BAR MITZVAH, ALEX!"
"...Maybe it's upstairs," Thermopylae suggests.
We search the building, then the adjoining buildings, and then the entire city before we realize we're in Oregon.

EDIT: Oh, and if I win, I'd like a female shirt, of course. ^^

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