As a teenager, I'd watch Doctor Who on Sunday afternoons on PBS. (Pertwee, Baker, and Davison, for those who care enough to recognize the names; otherwise never mind.)
My father would always comment that he didn't understand the appeal. “All they do is walk around in corridors and talk!” But like many American fans, I loved the cheerful goofiness of the show. It's difficult for me to imagine what it's like for Brits, who grow up as children watching from behind the sofa, terrified of the un-threatening Daleks.
I'm late to the party on the recent revival of the show. A little while back I finally sprung for the first couple of seasons on DVD but didn't motivate to watch them. I write this having finally watched the first episode. Exactly the sort of good fun I was hoping for.
And oh, the ending. Young Rose Tyler, her boyfriend in tow, has just survived the adventure in which she meets The Doctor.
Who doesn't want that to be their life?