Tuesday, October 15, 2013

For any records still spun on vinyl out there, (A personal account of NYCC 2013)

*Disclaimer: This one is part fiction, part reality


I *was inside* the New York Comic Conference. Ahem. Convention. I took photos. Some will soon be posted from accounts in my social networks at future dates as cognitive, motivational and photo processing times (in the truest sense, not just 'Photoshop') will allow. They're all in my cellphone right now, experiencing whatever it is devices do to data when left untouched for obscene periods. Many are even in 3D.


It was a hard journey to get from my Chelsea apartment to Javits Center on Saturday. I honestly could have taken the subway, or walked, but as my cabbie drove me along 34th to 11th Avenue, I watched loads of people slugging it on, many of them in *costumes*. I felt a little small inside, as though, maybe I should stop the cab driver (and cab itself), to see if any of the best costumed people should ride with me. Then I decided that would be creepy, so I decided to let him drive on.

48 seconds and $3.50 later, I stepped out of the cab, checking to make sure I didn't drop my house key or wallet anywhere in the vicinity of the cab, I emerged into: New York Comic Con.

I did a walk to survey the environs, and get an idea of the situation, then returned near 34th and 11th. It was 9.45am precisely and I  was expecting my brother, my sister-in-law and her two hobbits (one her sibling and the other her brother-in-law) to appear right around any corners of my eye. (I am a type of fish with these weird eyes that see in opposite directions).

Honestly, that may have been my favorite moment of Comic Con, just seeing all the people driving in. I couldn't help it, I began expressing a 'permasmile' (the inability to stop smiling, which if practiced repeatedly over weekly periods, this is not a desirable condition). These were my peeps!

Once I realized what I was doing, of course, I began acting a little tougher and even pulled a cigarette from my bag and began smoking in front of little kids coming in dressed as the Predator with their G.I. Joe fathers. Because clearly, these children know how the real Predator movie ends, right? (HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA)

Ahem (Kurtz is still in there).

Still, I was thoroughly enjoying this spectacle. It is so, so rare to see just herds (yes herds!) of people coming in to enjoy a good time with entirely non-mainstream (relatively) stuff. They had somehow packed in all the experiences of street-festivals in the city that always go on during this time, with one huge, huge mega-festival for everyone to come to visit! In one compact area. I was glad my baby bro (little one) and his wife arrived late, because I was able to soak in this amazing Atmosfear.

Suddenly, around 10:25 or so, well past our agreed meeting time (they were coming from Queens, forgive the poor souls), Little One tugged my arm and disrupted my imaginations. "Brother, we have to go now," he said. "We have been waiting for you for so long," he said. He dragged me over. I accepted his Little One tug and we began to enter the dojo of entrance, together, like all five limbs of Karateka.

My sister-in-law's sister and husband came dressed as very respectable Hobbits from Hobbiton, a town far, far away from Manhattan. They looked very good, and I shook their hands and felt they were genuine. I'm not good with names, so I can't remember their names, but I do know their faces. Actually, they were so well disguised in their hobbity costumes, I doubt I would ever recognize them in real life (which is a slight on me, not them). My sister-in-law came as the 10th Doctor, and I regarded her costume, and saw it it to be extremely well executed. (Later I would learn that she managed to find 10-30 other compatriots in the same vein, and that must have been some kind of fun I could never imagine!) It made me smile a real smile, and no 'permasmile'.

My brother came as a dude in a shirt and pants and a cream cheese bagel in his pocket. I came as a dude with a shirt and pants, too, (but no bagel). We never did a lot of 'costuming' as children. I mean, there was a play once in a while, for school, but it was never a routine thing like, say, the 'Halloween Tradition', so I bet neither of us feels truly innate in costumes. I cannot fully speak for my brother (maybe he would actually love to be put in a costume, especially if taken care of in the right way) but I know what and who I am. So it is highly unlikely I would wear any costumes (actually there is an old incident with my mother and grandmother, where they tried to dress me up in a costume and I hated it, so actually maybe this whole crazy theory only applies to me). Anyway, both of us ended up as plain guys with t-shirts and pants.

***Only one difference. He had a bagel with cheese in his pocket, and I was sporting a back-pack full of gourmet meats and luxury dinners***

Kidding, sorta! Anyway, once these types of introductory passages concluded, we entered the NYCC. 

Body? Any Body?

Once entered into boring 'round-the-block' entrance process, including RFID kisses and not any other types of kisses, I quickly told my brother and sister-in-law of my real plans, and made my own  way immediately to room '1a2x' (x here denotes that at time of writing, I forget the actual room number), and I managed to view a panel by IGN, a popular (but not my favorite) gaming magazine/cum web venue type thingy. Panel was funny enough and entertaining enough (and certainly different from other panels I'd experienced at PAX 2012 almost two years earlier). To be honest, it was telling that only IGN was able to make it to a panel in New York that Saturday. All those other places have no respect for New York (this is a jest, hopefully).

After that, I looked at my schedule, and realized there would not be enough time to Q and see J.M. Straczynski, who I'd (unknowingly) been a fan of since The Spiral Zone cartoon, but have probably been more so a fan of after his work with Babylon 5, a show I still deem better than any post-Shatner Star Trek incarnations (even though in subsequent years, I see those shows' merits too, and only because I don't care to watch any Shatner Star Trek incarnations due to personal issues).

Dejected, I made my way at 12:00 to the designated lunch area. I told myself this was the real reason I came to Comic Con. To check out the food.

(To be continued demain sur demande). Actually will be continued, regardless of demand.

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