Part of our lovely weekend involved the incredibly overpriced photo ops.  I ordered a Jensen, and my sister ordered a Jared. (Hee!)  I ended up near the very end of the 700+ person line and waited patiently for my 3 seconds of bliss.

The line stretched from the small room where the photo equipment was set up to all the way past the front desk and around the lobby.  It was like standing in line for your school picture if you went to a huge, unorganized (all-female) high school.  I was giddy with excitement and wondering how badly the picture would turn out since Jensen is infinitely prettier than I am.  When I finally reached the photo-op room, I was suddenly too scared to move. 

There was a piece of tape on the carpet marking The Line Which The Fangirls Cannot Cross.  You were supposed to stand behind the line until it was your turn to take a picture.  When I finally reached the front of the line, I was too scared to stand at the line.  I stood about three feet behind the line and kept apologizing.  Jensen was a few feet away, but I was either (a) too blinded by The Pretty, or (b) too frightened to move my head -- in either case, I looked at the ground instead of Jensen.  When I was called up to take a picture, I stumbled! 

I recovered quickly and apologized, but it came out more like a squeak.  Jensen was sitting in a chair, but he was still just as tall as I was standing up.  When I approached him he turned to look at me, lifted his head, smiled the most amazing smile in the history of the universe, and spoke.  "Hi there."  Hi there!  I was in heaven.  The photo-op price no longer mattered.  Not only did Jensen speak, but he did in his DEAN voice.  Dean Winchester said hi!  I was so dazed that I immediately grinned and had no clue that the photo had snapped.  I was standing behind Jensen, and I wasn't sure what the picture etiquette was.  Can I touch him?  How close should I get?

At the last minute I decided to put my hand on his shoulder, but the photographer had already said, "NEXT!"

My sister was waiting for me outside the room, and we immediately ran to the back of the Jared photo-op line, which was already forming.  When she came out of the photo-op room, she too had a dazed look on her face.  Of course, she actually had been on the receiving end of a giant Jared-hug.  ("He hugged ME with no provocation!" she tells me.)  Well worth the cost of the photo-op, I say.  (I also say, "why didn't I get a Jared photo-op?")

Due to several strange technical difficulties, the photos weren't available until late Sunday evening -- after we had to leave for the airport.  Not wanting to leave without seeing the pictures, we purchased the jpegs (as evidenced by my lovely icon).

Several weeks went by as we anxiously awaited for the pictures to arrive in the mail.  My FList alerted me to the fact that other people received their photos.

More time passed as we patiently waited.  Tumbleweeds rolled by.  Seasons changed.  The Writer's Strike ended.

I emailed several people from the Creation website alerting them to the fact that I am still anxiously (and patiently) awaiting the arrival of the photos.  As it turns out, there are several unclaimed photos, and by searching the site, you can find your picture conveniently numbered.  I found our numbered photos and emailed "Chris."

This was several weeks ago, and I'm still waiting.

I'm sure there are several tumbleweeds outside, ready to roll.  (Hey, this is Nebraska.)