"So Eden Sank to Grief, So Dawn Goes Down to Day..."

Amidst the excitement and building anticipation of the coming Downton Abbey season, a cloud loomed over the TCA Panel in Beverly Hills on Saturday, reminding everyone that this will be the last year the cast will appear together, this will be the last season of our beloved British period drama. With this in mind, I was desperate for the opportunity to meet my favorite cast members one final time, in spite of my mother’s side glances, eye rolls, and observations that I’m completely absurd for wanting to chase down my favorite stars (mind you this was the woman who was sorely disappointed she couldn’t come last time to meet Allen because she has a weakness for the Irish situation). And yes, fate had smiled on me the previous year and I managed to snap a few photos with Michelle, Allen, and Joanne, so I had to brace myself for the possibility that I would not be this fortunate two years in a row.

I gathered up my Downton book, I printed a new photo of Joanne because the last one she signed was damaged, and I snatched up a Sharpie, my heart pounding throughout the ridiculously long drive to Beverly Hills. Admittedly I was nervous. My earlier concerns from last year resurfaced and fears of imposing on the cast, interrupting their busy schedules, looking like a stalker, or just plain looking like an idiot swirled in my mind and my anxiety surged. Given that my anxiety barely allows me to eat without serious digestive repercussions, I entered the Hilton hotel living on a prayer and a simple banana I had managed earlier in the day.

I joined up with the girls I had met the previous year and their friends and waited in the lobby for the cast to begin their migration to the press room. I saw Gareth Neame wandering about, and considered getting a photo and his autograph on my book as well, but he swept past and I choked. Penelope Wilton was the first of the cast to pass us. A newcomer to US events, the group was eager to grab some photos, but her publicist immediately attempted to shut it down, advising the group to wait until later. In spite of this, Penelope quietly sauntered over to the group in graceful defiance and politely signed and posed for one photo, which left her publicist noticeably miffed. I was able to get her autograph in the book, but stopped at asking for a photo out of fear of angering the dreaded publicist (I’m not well-versed in autograph or photo hunting and I live in perpetual fear that these publicists can throw me out and/or kill me). After Penelope left, the group heeded the warning shot her publicist had fired and allowed Hugh, Joanne, Elizabeth, Michelle and Laura to pass by without intervening. Michelle and Joanne, who both recognized the girls instantly after years of encounters, promised to return for photos and autographs after the event.

The wait was terrible, my stomach was objecting to the lack of sustenance in spite of itself, and after rising early that morning, I was tired and struggling to stay alert for any sign of the actors. Eventually we changed location after the panel and mixer were finished and I managed to snap a very quick shot with Hugh before he dashed off as he needed to catch a plane. I didn’t want to keep him any longer in asking him to autograph my book. I returned to my post to anxiously await the rest of the cast.

Moments later, out of the corner of my eye I spotted Michelle and quickly gathered my phone and my book to snatch her if the opportunity presented itself, though she was flanked with a potentially deadly publicist and a few others I didn’t recognize. I turned and she immediately spotted me, waving enthusiastically and saying “hi!” She motioned as if she were going to pause and turn towards me, but I was unsure if I could finally approach her and didn’t immediately move toward her. I hesitated in this dance of confusion and asked meekly if she could sign now, and she said “Yeah!” I joined her, trying to arrange the book and get the damn cap off of my Sharpie, again apologizing for not being prepared (I really need to stop this rampant apologizing, but sadly it doesn’t stop here this night). As I juggled the cumbersome book and attempted to

uncap the pen, she asked how I was and said it was good to see me. Initially I thought she was being polite and reciprocated the greeting, but then she caught me off guard by noting “By the way, thank you so much for your support on Instagram, I really appreciate it!” I froze and became vaguely aware of the fact that my face had dropped momentarily into a look of utter shock. My heart certainly stopped; I was about to shout out a demand for a defibrillator. I’m not going to lie, I was fangirling hard at this point. “You know that was me?!” I stammered, finding my voice. “Yeah!”  she exclaimed. Of course she was referring to a debate I had engaged in with homophobic fans after she posted a pro-gay marriage photo on her account, but I had never imagined she even read through the hundreds of comments posted on her pictures, let alone would be able to identify any of the posters in a crowd. “Well thank you, I don’t mean to start too many arguments on there…” I said. “Oh no of course not!” she said incredulously, “don’t worry, some people, you know, they just use it as a forum, so…” She trailed off as she began signing the book. I thanked her for the autograph and asked her for a photo. “Yeah absolutely!” she agreed, and there I was again, fumbling, apologizing, trying to retrieve the phone from my pocket and setting up the camera app. Thankfully Michelle asked Victoria, Lady Publicist to take the photo. Victoria politely obliged and snapped a few shots. I thanked Victoria, and thanked Michelle again for her time. “Thank you, and enjoy season 6!” she called back as she began to walk away. “Oh I will! Enjoy your evening!” I called after her.

I put my stuff down, still trembling somewhat from the encounter, and saw the rest of the group approach her as she neared the elevators. I meandered toward them and took a few more pictures as she posed with the girls and their friends. She signed a few pictures and I kept my distance to allow her and the other fans their space as they joked about a YouTube video the girls had been

caught in with Michelle. Meanwhile, I stood beside Victoria and gathered that she may be one of those non-lethal publicists. I had read an article from the UK magazine Women and Home about her and the Downton publicity team, outlining the tireless work they put into bringing the face of DA to the world (sadly Una and Jessica were nowhere to be found). I decided to ask her for a photo as well. “Victoria, I know this is kind of weird, but can I take a picture with you for my blog?” I asked tentatively. “Sure!” she said and immediately put her arm around me for a picture. After we verified that the photo wasn’t blurry, because I’m still shaking at this point, I watched Michelle and her team drift off to the elevators, but not before Michelle turned one more time and waved goodbye to me. I could not have selected a better Fake TV wife. As one of the girls continually pointed out for the remainder of the evening, I had a smile plastered on my face, and still do as I’m writing this and recounting the course of events.

We eventually wandered back to one of our posts and immediately spotted Joanne standing outside of the ballroom where the conference and mixer had taken place. She was speaking to someone, possibly in an interview, and we waited, glancing around in every other direction, trying our best not to look like vultures waiting to swoop in and strike at first chance. As she finished up, she slowly crossed the hallway toward us, trying not to look presumptuous but knowing we were there for her nonetheless. Everyone took their photos with her and I moved in as the last. She complimented my blouse and I got her autograph and a photo, again apologizing because the first time I pushed the button, the picture didn’t take, and of course all technological mis-firings in the world are undoubtedly my fault. Let it be

known at this stage in my life I have owned the fact that I am a Grade A Dork and there’s nothing more that can be done about it. Joanne was of course, as sweet as could be, as she has always been. I thanked her for her time and she wandered off to the elevators to return to her room.  Elizabeth exited next, and much like Hugh, conversation was minimal, a please for an autograph, a thank you for a picture, though she briefly spoke with the girls as they suggested a Sadie and the Hotheads concert in LA,  and then she was on her way.

My stomach was loudly protesting at this point, but Laura had not yet emerged from the ballroom. I opted to wait, because, if you recall, I had missed her last year after deciding the Elephant Charge would not serve in my favor. Of course, as we know by now, Edith cannot be relied upon in many respects, and Laura exited from an alternative door closer to the elevators. In a moment’s notice, I made a decision. This was the last year. I wanted to meet Laura. I was going to meet Laura. The chase was on. In a futile attempt to rush across the lobby inconspicuously, I resigned to a full on stampede, ducking into a narrow opening  between a wall

and a PBS sign, zipping behind couches and patrons, and I finally slowed after realizing I would cross her path before she entered the elevator hallway. Perfect. No call to the police this year. Thank god, those cavity searches can be so invasive. I approached her and asked for an autograph and a photo, which she graciously agreed to. Yet again, awkward discoordination set in and I struggled to get the book and pen for her to sign and yes, apologizing…and apologizing…fuck me. She continued to reassure me, saying “it’s okay, no worries, it’s alright!” but this did little to settle me as I knew I was imposing on the remainder of her evening, whatever it may hold. I did the even less coordinated switch to the camera phone (it’s really hard to manage both an autograph and a photo in these situations!), and snapped a shot. I thanked her profusely, and she rushed off to the elevator, passing over the girls in my group apologizing and saying she had to go.

Finally, exhausted, malnourished, and completely elated, I sashayed away with what was quickly becoming my trademark idiotic grin, and prepared to set off on home, navigating the gridlock of

the Los Angeles freeway system. I went to get my parking validated, and as luck would have it, as I set off in the direction of the parking garage, I spotted Penelope exiting the hotel, on her way to catch a plane. I stopped her and requested a quick photo. Again I found her to be soft-spoken and almost delicate. I became immediately grateful of the nervous voice I had been employing all night, a voice that finds itself fractions above an audible decibel (and which is also known as my “calm yo’ ass down” therapist voice), because I was suddenly concerned of overwhelming the poor woman if I spoke too loudly or made any sudden movements. She agreed and posed with me, then smiled as she wished me a good evening and I wished her a safe flight.

The night was a huge success. I was and am eternally grateful for the opportunities I have been given to meet this wonderfully talented cast before the close of the show. I expect they will all go on to great things and grace many more events in Tinseltown with appearances, but I’m not sure my stomach can handle it. Only time will tell, but I must extend my gratitude to the cast for being more than accommodating, understanding, patient, and utterly sweet in every respect of the word. So thank you, and I’m sorry…er-I mean…DAMN IT!

Signatures L-R: Michelle, Laura, Allen, Joanne, Elizabeth, and Penelope