I'm still in Recovery Mode from my How-I-Met-My-Idol-Richard-Armitage-aka-John-Thornton- Excellent-Adventure-at-the-92nd-St-Y-in-NYC. It all happened on the night of January 16^th, 2014. Our Richard was to be part of a group of actors doing a READING of Pinter/Proust.

First of all, I DARED myself to go to NYC and take on all the challenges of such an "excellent adventure" without making a trip to OZ to get me some COURAGE, first.

I plotted and planned for DAYS before the trip, sometimes assuring myself that I could always opt out if I wanted to. Who would know? After all, no NORMAL person my age would easily consider going into New York City … by train ... alone ... on a cold Winter night ... and then have to make her way to 92nd Street by whatever transportation she could find, and then sit in a darkened theater for hours WITHOUT falling asleep. (I always fall asleep in darkened theaters in my ... advanced age.)

(The key word above is *NORMAL*. I do not consider any Richard Armitage fan (or Fankle, as some of us on this British website called C19, call ourselves) normal. C19 is a website mostly devoted to Richard Armitage, and we are all proud members of the Armitage Army. We are all hopelessly, deliriously obsessed with Our Richard, as we call him.)

So, ignoring all the pleadings from my own common sense, (or what little of it I have), I did it – even with the gnawing worry that I would probably make quite a few blunders.

When I got into bustling Grand Central Station, I asked a police officer if he could tell me the best, least expensive but fastest way to get to the 92^nd Street Y. He told me I had three options: the first was a bus, but he didn't think that was a good idea because it would take ages, what with all the stops and the congested traffic; the second was by taxi, but that would be reallly expensive, and the third way was by subway.

We walked over to a counter and he got a map and proceeded to tell me to make sure to go to the ticket booth downstairs at the subway station and buy a ticket for $2.50 and another ticket for $5.00, (huh?), and then make sure I took the train going north, and then make sure to go past three stops and then ...

I interrupted him politely here and said I thought I'd better opt for a cab because I was sure I'd make a mistake of some sort and probably end up in New Jersey. He laughed amiably and agreed that a cab might be my wisest choice.

So I went outside into the cold night and walked three blocks before I finally got a taxi. I could see that the street traffic was indeed truly horrific and the cab would probably cost me a fortune ... but after all, it was to SEE OUR RICHARD IN PERSON, and wasn't ANY expense, any effort, worth THAT?

The cab to the Y cost $20.00, tip and all.

I checked in at the ticket counter to pick up the ticket I had ordered by phone and asked if someone could deliver a small package I had brought for Richard Armitage. A nice young fellow said he would take it to Richard personally. I could have hugged him. :)

As luck would have it, I had gotten to the Y in time to sit in on the discussion in what's known as The Gallery, before the Readings. Never expected I would be allowed in, but I was. The discussion was so delightful, the speakers so witty and charming, as well as so informative.

Then it was upstairs to the balcony for me. I tried to see if I could spot TWO people in particular: a woman whose name online was Fantastica, and another whose name was Librarygirl. No luck yet.

The READING began, and OMG – suddenly there was our Richard! (Be still my heart!) I'm afraid all the other performers/readers proved a bit of a blur, because I had eyes mainly for RA. I even kept focused on him when he just sat in the back onstage after each reading of his parts. Imagine ... I was breathing the same air as he was. (I'll bet ALL the members of the Armitage Army who were there that night must have been thinking the same. I mean, this was no ordinary HUMAN BEAN we were seeing on that stage. This was OUR DEAR DARLING LOVABLE RICHARD ARMITAGE! )

Well, he was simply ... Richard. Which is to say he was charismatic, eloquent, funny when the lines called for him to be funny ... in short, he was magnificent. Many a time I wanted to pinch myself to prove this wasn't all just a dream. I guess Proust is okay ... and I guess Pinter is okay ... but Richard could have been reading the telephone directory for all I cared, and I would have been in Swoonville just as easily.

During intermission, I was sure I had spotted one of the ladies I had hoped to meet (I had been given a description of her and her real name, as well as her online name (which was *Fantastica*) and told she would also be looking out for me.) I went over, close to where she was sitting and managed to call out her real name. (She's shy and very private and prefers not to have her real name mentioned.) She immediately turned and looked at me - then she broke out in a BIG SMILE and came charging over to me, and we broke out in giggles and hugged. I had been told beforehand that it was her birthday, so I gave her a tiny figurine I had made and wished her a happy birthday. (I had also made her a card, but I never could find it in my darned, overcrowded tote. Rats!). Talking to her, I felt as if I'd known her for YEARS. Truly lovable. :)

How could this evening be more perfect than it had been so far, I asked myself. I was soon to find the answer when, after the Reading was over, Fantastica and I went down to the lobby and, on a hunch, made our way close to the Gallery area ... and suddenly THERE WAS OUR RICHARD! Smiling, looking so happy, so quietly animated, so thoughtful and gentle. He posed for picture after picture, his manner so welcoming, that handsome face so benign ... looking a bit tired, but so obviously enjoying being with his ardent fans.

Fantastica, took my camera and took the picture you see here in this blog. (I was afraid to look at it until I was back on the train, on my way home.)

It was in the midst of this well behaved little mob of fans that I also discovered I was standing next to ... of all people ... Librarygirl. She was soooo cute, and soooo funny, with such a tall, handsome hubby!

IMO, THIS part of the evening was entirely THE BEST part. Being in Our Richard's presence, having a picture taken with him, hearing him laugh and talk and just being so ... well, I'm sorry, but the most apt word I can think of to describe him is: SO SWEET! It was HEAVEN! He told me he had gotten my package and thanked me. He was talking to ME. Richard Armitage was smiling and talking to ME!

He calmly signed autographs, posed for pictures, spoke to us in that low, mellifluous voice of his. He even told the guard standing nearby that he would not leave until he had seen all his fans. Wottaguy!

When it was all over and Richard had left, a group of us headed out the door and then hugged and kissed goodbye. We were strangers no more, but Armitage Army buddies.

I grabbed a cab and headed back to Grand Central Station (another fortune in taxicab fare ... but who cared!?)

I missed my 11:22 PM train by THREE MINUTES, but who cared?

I thought it was the LAST train, and I might have to either sleep in the waiting area to catch the next train in the morning, or find a motel ... but who cared?

Luckily, tho, I found out at the Information booth that there was a 12:07 AM train. HURRAY!

I was in such a dream state on the train, reliving the evening in my mind, (and occasionally napping off), that I missed my stop. Uh oh ... what to do now? I got off in (OMG) Fairfield and luckily found a cab, and tho it cost another small fortune to get me back to my car at the Westport station, I thought ... who cares!?

I tell you ... EVERYBUDDY should have a DOSE of Our Richard in their lives. It's better than a shot of caffeine or adrenalin!

(I apologize to anyone who fell asleep while reading this.)

BTW - If you'd like to see the series that initially got all us women so hooked on Richard Armitage aka John Thornton, you can view the entire series on Youtube. Here is the link - just copy and paste it in your browser:

http://youtu.be/JslYJ2pvk8w

WARNING: you won't like *John Thornton* AT ALL when you first see him.  But, hold on.  You'll soon be all (Lady) Ga Ga over him ... I guarantee it. ;)

(Be sure you watch BBC North and South, or you'll get a Western instead.)