As you freakin' wish

They say that you never really get over your first love and that might actually be true ... even if mine didn't know I loved him ... or that I existed.

Growing up, I had a handful of movies that I watched on repeat: Gone with the Wind, Return to Oz, and of course, The Princess Bride. While there are several male love interests in movies that have resonated with me, Westley, played by actor Cary Elwes, tops them all. Every time he'd deliver, "As you wish," I'd melt into a puddle on the floor.

No matter how many times I'd watch, my reaction would be the same. Don't get me wrong, I loved that movie for a number of reasons, but Westley made me wish some man would tell me "As you wish" some day.

To this day, I still love the movie and secretly hope some man will whisper, "As you wish" in my ear, but have a more appropriate appreciation for my favorite movie.

A couple of years ago, Cary wrote a tell-all book about his experiences with the film and began a book tour. One of the stops, to my surprise, was in Massachusetts. Upon making this discovery, as a grown, rational adult woman, I carried myself accordingly and screamed out loud. Making plans with my friend Brian, we purchased passes to see him on tour AND meet him. I was over the moon.

In the days leading up to the show, I brought it up daily - even to strangers. Less than a week before the show, however, Cary cancelled the show making an announcement over his Facebook page. As you can imagine, I was bummed out. REALLLLLLY bummed out. It didn't matter that we were refunded our money. I just wanted to meet Westley.

Fast-forward to my move across the country to Pennsylvania: While having lunch by myself in the office of my new job, I happened to scroll through my Facebook feed and see that Cary had announced he would be in Philadelphia in June. I think it took all of a minute for me to finalize the purchase and make arrangements to chat with him after the talk. Because it was so impromptu, I only bought myself a ticket. I didn't even look at the time or date.

This time, I kept my mouth shut because I was not going to jinx myself again. I had every intention of taking time to get ready before the event, but in typical Emily fashion, I overslept that morning, skipped breakfast and barely managed to get to work on time. I did, however, manage to slap on some cute shoes - are you really surprised? - and one of my favorite dresses.

I could always slap on makeup on the car ride there? Maybe figure out something with my hair too?

Well, despite leaving a little early, there was traffic. There's always traffic on the way into Philly. I slapped on my face as I sat there, bumper-to-bumper, but my hair was not anything to be proud of.

I hadn't eaten. I needed to pee. And I was running out of time.

When I finally parked my car in the designated lot, I frolicked up to the theater with glee. As I approached the usher with a smile plastered across my face, he leaned down and told me how nice I looked. "You look very lovely, but I have a feeling this isn't where you want to be. Princess Bride is over there," he said motioning up the street.

I n my defense, I wasn't the only one to do that. In fact, I was followed by more than a handful of Princess Bride-lovers, that identified themselves by saying that Westley was waiting for them.

Rushing to the door of the correct building, I was immediately sandwiched between three lines of anxious fans. There was no peeing now.

This first part of the evening was a screening of the movie. Like many others in that theater, I couldn't tell you how many times I've seen it. For the most part, it played out like a concert. When the most-loved lines were delivered, people sang them out in unison. There was one guy behind me, because he would have to be sitting behind me, that voiced EVERY SINGLE LINE OF THE MOVIE in the most OBNOXIOUS VOICE ever.

WE GET IT. YOU'VE SEEN THE MOVIE.

I let out some deliberate guttural sounds that gradually increased in volume over the course of a few minutes and shifted in my seat in a less-than-discreet manner. While he didn't stop completely, he at least turned down his personal volume, so I didn't have to exchange some intense angry stares.

As expected, the movie didn't disappoint. As the curtains came up on the Kimmel Center stage, an area reporter, who had been charged with leading the Q&A, introduced herself to the audience. Before she could complete Cary's introduction, he was walking across the stage and sat down. Right. In. Front. Of. Me.

Fan-girling wouldn't even begin to describe what was happening to me at that moment. And yes, I am just as delusional as others to think that he actually was looking at me. It was yet another way to experience a movie I love.

I did kind of feel bad for the woman directing the Q&A though. Whether she was a fan or not, she had to not only keep her cool, but also to watch the time closely as she directed questions at him. In print news, I've found that I had the luxury of listening to someone and the answers that they provide more so than when I've had to do on-camera work. Though this wasn't exactly the same, it still makes it harder to engage the way you might want to because you have to work hard to steer the conversation, especially when a personality like Cary Elwes is storytelling.

He provided behind-the-scene details. He shared off-screen memories. And he shared a story about Andre the Giant and an 11-second fart, complete with voices. I was laughing so hard I was crying.

After that portion of the Q&A was through, it was time. I was finally going to meet Westley. As soon as I stood up from my seat, I remembered my bladder that I had kicked under my seat, my empty stomach and my frizzy hair.

Oh my God. If my stomach is growling, I'll be my breath stinks. I'm going to meet Westley with smelly breath. Awesome.

Just as I was trying to solve these serious life problems, an usher motioned to me and a few others, inquiring about our "bracelets." My stomach dropped to the floor.

Bracelets? What bracelets? I have to meet him. I HAVE to.

USHER: Ma'am, I'm not going to let you past here unless you have a bracelet.

Me: But, I'm supposed to be. I, I my ticket. And I have to. And he's. I. Didn't pee yet. I promise. I wouldn't lie. I need to.

Yeah, I wish that what you just read was a mistype. Unfortunately, that's what I managed to say. This was a product of having low blood sugar. As friends like Dani can attest, who literally used to chuck granola bars at me, when I start to get low, my body shuts down.

Thankfully, the lady behind me insisted he look at my name and the usher handed me my bracelet.

Patron-saint stranger: Altoids?

Me: Is my breath really that bad? Ya know what? I don't care. Now I won't pour my dragon-breath on Westley.

PSS: We certainly can't have that now, can we? (Chuckling) Body spray?

Me: Do I smell too? I don't even care. I'll take some. You are a wonderful woman. I hope that man you're with appreciates you.

Maybe it was over the top, but it didn't matter. I was going to meet my farm boy. Closer and closer I neared to the front of line until I finally had him centered in my line of vision. I gasped and then laughed at myself. I fangirl, but this was just ridiculous. I couldn't stop giggling. I had to pull myself together. I wasn't going to have him think that I was just a foolish fan. I had to be ready. Truth be told, I don't plan out questions for an interview like I would lines for a play. I think it's a better experience for me and the person I interview if I just let it play out more organically. Because it was Westley, I made sure I had a couple at the ready. I was not going to embarrass myself.

As I made eye contact with Cary, he motioned for me to come over and immediately asked my name. I was calm, cool and collected as I said, "Emily," while placing my hand in his. I went into full-on interview mode. I had this ... I ...

CARY FREAKING ELWES: (WHILE LEANING IN TO WHISPER IN MY EAR - PATRON-SAINT LADY CAN ATTEST!!:) My, you look very pretty tonight, Emily.

ME: *dies*

Yeah. I actually couldn't get a single word out.

Hard-hitting journalist that I am melted into the floor. Patron-saint stranger cheered me on and high-fived me in the lobby.

Cary FREAKING Elwes told me I was pretty and I couldn't speak. It was exactly As I Wished.