I met George Romero on February 2nd and I think my life will be forever changed.  Romero's apocolyptic visions of man's excess and ultimate frailty are true American classics.  He is the maverick auteur behind Day of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead, and Night of the living Dead and on that night, the San Marco theater of Jacksonville screened the Latter.  Because 2008 marks the fortieth anniversary of this seminal film, George Romero was there to provide live commentary.
    For the non-fans, I'm sure it was a bit of a let down, especially for the $50 price tag.  The volume was turned down on the film and George Romero basically told stories in stream of consciousness.  Often his stories had nothing to do with the movie itself, they were just funny asides. Not needing to actually hear or follow it, having seen it too many times to mention, i enjoyed it.  In fact, I was enthralled.
    I couldn't help wondering if I would get a chance to meet the genius, though.  Would he simply wave and walk out, sign a few token autographs, or would he hangout for awhile?  Would i get a chance to converse with him?  My worrys were unwarrented.  As it turned out, he stuck around and gave us all the time we wanted.
    We stood in line for an hour, during that time I imagined what I would say to the man.  Would I mention to him that I had a Dawn of the Dead tattoe or would I tell him about the time I dragged my band mates to the Monroeville mall to act out scenes from the movie?  Would I mention how Sidless Nancy and I had stumbled upon the cemetery from "Night" while lost in rural Pennsylvania?  Would I explain to him how he opened me up to underground and independent films?  Would I express to him how he changed my freakin' life!!!
    In the end, I clammed up.  I froze like a child sitting on Santa's lap; overwhelmed and frightened by the person they love so much.  Sidless Nancy, who I had dragged there, hates horror movies, and suffers from social anxiety, had to do all the talking.  God bless her, she was witty, intelligent, and charming.  I stood like the zombies George Romero had created in movies, while sid spoke for me.  All I could do was blurt out my name in a volume utterly inappropriate for our proximity.
    As Sid ushered me off, I wondered what had happened.  Anyone that knows me knows how gregarious i can be.  Traveling and working at Sun Studio I've met many famous people; movie stars, skateboard legends, and rock royalty.  I've chatted them up like we were old friends.  I charmed them with my witty anecdotes.  I was never at a loss for words.  Why with George?  Did I build him up too much?  Had I worshiped him too long?
    Romero couldn't have been more affable.  He listened to each and every story with rapt attention, he laughed loudly at every joke, and posed for any picture.  His giant, old lady on Miami Beach, glasses, his puffy winter vest, and his scraggly ponytail all screamed, "Let's have a drink and shoot the shit.  He was completely approachable.  I just couldn't talk to him, though.
    I was pretty sure that I knew why I had acted like I had.  In line, I had looked around at the other people in line.  The people around me were trekkies, dweebs, and geeks.  I had stood in line, silently, listening to each and every inane conversation.   I was not only aware of the sheer banality of their discussions, but I was aware that I had, at one point or another, been involved in the same dialogue.  I was one of these people.  I was a fanatic!  I'm a..............Nerd!