Dear Christian Kane

Dear Mr. Kane,

Once upon a time, this story was your fault.

For many years, you and my family have crossed paths. My father and sister have worked on both Leverage and Librarian sets with you, and my brother basically adopted you into the family based on your portrayal of the young Hub in Secondhand Lions.

As for myself, I began as your average fan. It was never a challenge to like a handsome, talented, and charming southern man. But as stories trickled home about your good-natured and professional behavior on-set, and as I got a little too into Leverage (seriously, that show was AMAZING)…I began the descent into full Christian Kane fandom. Throw in the musical talent and a ridiculously fun cooking show, and I was officially going to embarrass my family.

And it was with Kaniac blood coursing through my veins that I found myself on-set with you one late summer’s day.

You were shooting the Shakespearean season finale with Librarians at a beautiful location above the Columbia Gorge. The sunlight was filtering through the trees and I was floating around in a voluminous red skirt (a detail for later).

The knowledge that you were on set was intensely unhelpful. I’m a professional, dang flabbit, and professionals do NOT tackle beloved actors to the ground with their love. It became increasingly bothersome as you wandered in and out of my potential tackle range.

It all started with the loo.

It was a desperate situation, so I ended up using the station closest to the cast trailers. I conducted my business and stepped out the door. It was with one foot poised to step down from the trailer that I saw you.

It wasn’t uncommon to see you, I had already done so and survived the experience like the adult that I am. But THIS time, you were walking to your trailer and directly in my path. At our current trajectories I would intercept you with casual indifference. It would look perfectly normal. I would smile professionally, you would fall madly in love with my mystery and immediately obvious charm…what could be more natural?

I saw you smile at some crew…current trajectory stable. I watched you pause to let someone pass…meeting point established. You put one hand into your pocket…we were so close. I prepared my smile…and was suddenly seeing the world upside down with pain exploding everywhere.

I had stepped directly into a hole, planting myself face-first into the ground, with my enormous red skirt over my head like a parachute.

For the first ten seconds I couldn’t breathe…and not because I had a mouthful of dirt, but because I had torn a ligament in my ankle. So there I was…a large pile of writhing red skirt on the grass, watching you pass our destined meeting point.

When I finally controlled the pain and got my skirt back to its original placement, all I could do was lie there for nearly an hour. Once I mustered the courage to stand, I limped back to my vehicle and laugh-cried myself silly. My love for you had officially reached the level of physical pain.

My family laughed as I recounted my tale and it made it’s way into the cache of Ridiculous Rachel stories. Nearly a year passed, my ankle finally healed, and once again I found myself heading to the set of the Librarians. This time I wouldn’t make the same mistakes. I was going to be on set, you were going to be on set, destiny was once again in motion.

I grabbed my bag, walked out the door, stepped toward my car in eager anticipation, and promptly tripped and fell down my hill, twisting my injured ankle and bathing myself in mud.

My sister has dubbed it “The Curse of the Librarians”, but I know the truth…

Destiny is a pain in the ass.