My first Comic-con: Day 1
My knowledge of the comic-con phenomenon came from the legends of my tribe, the nerds and the geeks and the science fiction and fantasy people of this world.
The people who can quote you chapter and verse from the canon of half a dozen iconic shows, who have read all the books and know everything there is to know, who are lovingly familiar with all the characters and all the worlds and who do not grudge the time and the money it takes to reproduce those characters in eye watering detail in the halls of the convention center.
I knew this at one remove but I was a comic-con virgin until I accepted a Pro-Pass invitation to attend the Emerald City Comicon in Seattle.
I also knew that it was going to be vivid and big and crowded and wall-to-wall-peopled with others who love the things I love. I have to admit that there was a frisson or two because large crowds have always been tough for me to handle, they suck strength and vim from me, and there is usually only so much of a thoroughly crowded place I can take before I start wildly looking for quiet boltholes.
But it is part of geek-cred to do Comic-con, at least one Comic-con, at least once. And here was this one in my back yard there it was. And there I was going to be.
I drove down to Seattle on Thursday, April 7, Opening Day. They were still not quite a going concern when I got there, with various escalators in the Convention Center being guarded by fierce staffers herding eager con-goers with the wrong kinds of badges — there are several different kinds of badges, and oh boy do they matter — away from the area not yet open.
In the Main Stage area, the drifting populace clumped into a heaving, impatient, queueing mass, a low undertow of chattering squawking occasionally roaring humanity underlying the music played over loudspeakers as they waited for the doors to the main show floor to open at 3 PM and flowing through those doors like a human river as soon as they were flung wide. I had a bagful of books to deliver to the University Books booth, so I took one of the forbidden escalators to the sixth level as soon as they were opened up and divested myself of those.
Then, exploring the two different levels of Show Floor, I plunged into Huckster Heaven.
What didnt they sell at Comic-con? T-shirts, of course, but also Batman bikinis and Superman bathrobes; chocolate mounded into Daleks and the Tardis and Weeping Angels and the Death Star and sonic screwdrivers and eyeballs and brains; every possible kind of stuffed ANYTHING, from Hello Kitty and Kittchthulhu to plush Dust Mites (I kid you not) and sloths and various Manga like critters whom I did not quite recognize and Gothified plushied versions of characters who ALMOST looked familiar but were desperately not quite there; artwork of every description from 2-D posters and prints through figurines, electronic LED flashing things, sculptures that were sometimes quite breathtaking, hand-made leather journals that made me drool over their pure beauty
Take a breath:
.books, geek-heaven mix-and-match DIY backpacks which you could build out of different bit parts like luggage lego; masks and wigs and cat ears oh my; games (one crowdfunded one which went by the name Exploding Kittens and came in kiddie and R-U-Old-Enough shrink-wrapped versions; mugs; vast piles of comics; things for the making of comics and art (pens, brushes, paints, notebooks, paper); music; craftsman beer; things that had no business being made out of Legos but still impossibly made out of Legos; booths which sold things
which were an explosion of color, like a unicorn had wandered past and vomited up a rainbow; endearing ceramic creatures which made you smile just to look at them; fairy things and dragon things and flame-thrower things and wand things and soft things and fascinating things, and .
I wandered through in a daze, watching one young woman counting out $95 dollars without blinking and handing it over to a booth holder in exchange for a bag stuffed with stuff and this was THURSDAY, the con was barely open. I wanted so many things. I didnt buy anything, heroically, at all, at least in those first few hours. But it WAS heroic. There were dollar signs dancing in the crowded aisles between the tables. The air was green with them.
I stopped at a booth (wo)manned by a Facebook friend of mine, who was talking to another woman, and patiently looked at art until they both looked over. And then the other woman, the customer, frowned and said,
But I know you. From Norwescon, right?
Not this year, I said.
No, but from Norwescon. You write books. About, I dont know what was it, magical spam ?
Spellspam, yes, I said, supplying the name of one of my Worldweavers Young Adults..
I have your books, she announced triumphantly. I LIKE your books.
I meandered on smiling.
I ended up, a little footsore, at the Cheesecake Factory restaurant right next door to the Convention Center, and had dinner over a brisk conversation with two women about women and comics (oh STRAIGHT out of Big Bang Theory! They even discussed Thor, just like the BBT girls!) and after a very nice dinner dragged myself two blocks down and five across back to my hotel.
Tomorrow: Day 2
“If you dont have time to read, you dont have the timeor the toolsto write.” — Stephen King
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