Letters From The Loft
Stuff From The Desk Of Chuck Thornton
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DAY ZERO - WEDNESDAY, JULY 20, 2011
The annual Comic-Con tradition always starts with the drive to San Diego on Wednesday, where we check into the hotel and then go to the Convention Center to register, get our badges, and attend "preview night," where a few thousand lucky ticket holders get the opportunity to spend those crucial 2 or 3 extra hours in the exhibit hall before the masses descend the following day. Other than the registration area, the exhibit hall is about the only thing open on preview night, and overall, the exhibit hall is just as crowded on preview night as any other day at the Con. So for those with preview night tickets, it serves as a good scrimmage before the main event.
If at all possible, I and my two sons Ben and Sam try to make the trip to CCI together in one car, but it's been tough to accomplish this in the past few years... either Ben or Sam (or both) have had scheduling issues that required them to arrive later. This year was no different... Sam had to work late Wednesday night, so he wouldn't be arriving in San Diego till well after my bedtime, and would have to throw a flash-bang grenade through the hotel window to make us aware of his arrival. And once again this year, we failed to secure the team of wild horses that's necessary to drag my wife, the lovely and talented Susan, to CCI. Since we were abandoning her for five days, it seemed tacky to take her car, so Ben and I made the trip to San Diego in his sporty 2004 Corolla (top of its class among cars weighing less than 15 pounds).
At the time, my nephew Jeff was recovering from a small plane crash (coincidentally, also a Corolla) and was in a hospital in Colton, so Ben and I decided to swing by there to see him on our way to San Diego. Colton's not exactly a tourist-friendly town, and visitors to the hospital have to go through the same sort of security checkpoint that one encounters at airports or The White House. By the time Ben and I signed the consent forms and realized that the cavity search was not of a dental nature, the hospital staff had had enough time to warn Jeff of our approach and shuttle him off to some sort of therapy. It wasn't a wasted trip, though... nearby was a Shakey's Pizza Parlor, so we could continue the tradition established the year before to always partake of Bunch-Of-Lunch on our way to CCI.
This particular Shakey's was actually in my home town of Riverside, and was the same location I had frequented as a kid. I shared with Ben that, back in the day, Shakey's had a piano and banjo duet that would entertain the customers as they chowed down on pizza. Ben couldn't understand my nostalgia... he's not personally crazy about any live music during mealtime, but he pointed out that, if you're into that sort of thing, you're probably looking for some harp music or a roving violinist to assist with your digestion, rather than a couple of guys belting out "Hold That Tiger."
The absence of music is more than made up for by Bunch-Of-Lunch, which, in one sitting, allows you to eat at least double the amount of calories you've consumed year-to-date, if you can be there on a weekday between 11 am and 2 pm. We try to keep under the management's radar and stay there for the whole 3 hours; it's all-you-can-eat pizza, fried chicken, and other stuff, but the main attractions are the Mojo potatoes. I think Mojo potatoes are just oval-shaped slices of potato fried in some sort of batter, but, as the name indicates, there's some sort of mojo involved that enchants us into thinking they're a delicacy.
After lunch, we made the drive down to the same Hampton Inn that we used the year before. I made the reservations pretty early in the year, and it's about a 20 minute drive from the Convention Center, so the room cost isn't quite as steep as a lot of the local hotels who (understandably) realize that, during CCI, four-star rates can be applied to any room with four walls, a ceiling, and some receptacle that at least resembles a toilet.
After we had checked in and brought everything up to the 3rd floor room, we headed back to the car to make the trip to the Convention Center for registration and preview night. In the elevator, we were joined by a costumed couple... the guy was dressed as Green Lantern and the lady was dressed as someone who wasn't embarrassed to be seen hanging around Green Lantern. Since this wasn't LA, we were safe in assuming they were also there for the Con, so we said hi and complimented them on their costumes. I was glad Sam wasn't there... when he's not actually at the Convention Center, Sam's not crazy about publicly wearing his Comic-Con affiliation on his sleeve, so I knew he would find it awkward to step off an elevator with me while I was chatting it up with the Emerald Knight.
I'm better than Ben at pretending like I know where I'm going, so I volunteered to drive from the hotel to the Convention Center. In hindsight, that was probably a mistake, since I sideswiped a car with Ben's Corolla before I made it to our destination.
My driving has gotten worse as I've gotten older (my theory is that driving skills diminish in direct proportion to the distance between the neck and the belt-buckle), but I've always found driving in downtown San Diego a challenge. Almost all the streets are one-way, so even the simplest surface-street trip to a cross-town destination requires a minimum of 23 turns and resembles a route little Billy would take from his front yard to the kitchen in Family Circle. The terrain is rather hilly, and I don't think any corner is a strict 90 degree angle, so even though you think you're going around the block, after four turns you always end up in Mexico. To give you an idea, here's a street map of the downtown area:
In this case, I was on a freeway heading south into downtown San Diego, when I discovered that the freeway had ended and that my lane abruptly turned to the right and became the middle lane of a city street with a signaled intersection just a block ahead. Worse yet, the female Australian voice of Ben's GPS was telling us that crikey, we needed to turn left at the upcoming intersection. I recovered my wits quickly, brought my speed down to a sub-bullet-train level, saw that I was lucky enough to be approaching a green light, and, since I was already in the center lane, activated my left hand blinker and proceeded to turn left at the intersection.
What I didn't realize, of course, was that I was traveling down a one-way street, and that the lane to my left, which I thought was for oncoming traffic, was instead for folks traveling the same direction as Ben's Corolla. So to the driver of the 2011 Prius that was overtaking me in that lane, it appeared that I had taken none too kindly to the idea of being passed by a hybrid. I turned left as the Prius was passing me on the left. Once my left front fender had bounced off the back right fender of the Prius, my lightning quick reflexes took over and immediately prevented me from swearing while simultaneously informing me that the reason there was no oncoming traffic was because one-way streets don't have oncoming traffic.
We pulled over and exchanged insurance information and I apologized to Prius man. I know when you get in an accident, the first rule in our litigious society is to never say you're sorry, but really, what could I do after making the guy feel like he was in the chariot race from Ben Hur? I felt better after I phoned in the details of the accident to my insurance company and found out that, because both Prius man and I were insured by AAA, there would be no deductible applied to either claim. I guess being insured by AAA is sort of like being a Mason, except with window decals instead of rings or secret handshakes.
There was only cosmetic damage done to both cars, so we were both able to drive away after crashing like ships in the night. The accident made us late to Preview Night, but we were still able to register and get our badges. The badge is the single most important piece of attire at CCI... you can show up buck naked with your badge pasted to your chest, and walk freely into the Exhibit Hall and conference rooms. But without the badge, you can have a bomb strapped to your chest with your thumb on the trigger and you still won't be able to convince any of the convention personnel to let you in. As some of you may recall, my friend Alan lost his badge at last year's convention, and he's still doing the paperwork to get a replacement.
Customarily, at the time we pick up our badges, we've been able to to go to a different kiosk and purchase tickets for the following year. But, as I mentioned in the prologue, CCI had suggested in their advance material that this year would be different. And sure enough, there was no advance ticket kiosk. Instead, there were postings on the premises and in the program letting us know that if one wanted to purchase tickets for next year's Con, they would be on sale between 8 and 10 am daily in a ballroom over at the Hyatt, which was located conveniently next door to the Marriott, which is located conveniently next door to the Convention Center. Of course, end-to-end, the Convention Center, the Marriott, and the Hyatt are about 10 miles wide, so it's sort of like saying Finland is conveniently next door to Russia.
Anyway, we made a mental note to stop by the Hyatt Ballroom the next morning to get next year's tickets, then decided to check out the Exhibit Hall, which was still open. Traditionally, I always stop by the Peanuts booth, where every year they offer at least a couple of T-shirts that are Comic-Con exclusives. My wife, the lovely and talented Susan, likes Peanuts and likes these shirts, and since she lets me go to CCI every year, I always bring her back a couple. Fortunately for me, although the late Charles M. Schulz allowed his strip to become a merchandising bonanza, he never gave permission for anyone to put a Peanuts image above the phrase "My [FILL IN THE BLANK] went to the Comic-Con and all I got was this lousy T-shirt." The Peanuts folks were offering a preview night special of 20% off all merchandise (as they do every year) and there was a big, slow-moving line at the booth (like there is every year), so I decided the wait wasn't worth the discount and would try the booth on one of the other days (like I do every year). Tradition is a very important part of the CCI experience.
During the Con, various exhibitors offer "exclusives", meaning merchandise that's offered, at least initially, only at the Con. I normally don't pay close attention to these items, but one caught my eye this year:
It was a limited edition (only 1000 made!), Syroco-style Spider-Man statuette offered by Dark Horse Comics. I've collected similar statuettes, released by the same company, of Peanuts characters, Archie and Jughead, Woody and Bullseye (from Toy Story) and other super-heroes, so I thought it would be cool to add this to the collection. I'm not sure what Syroco-style is... I think they were an oil company in the 60's... but I know what I like. And this figure in particular is a good barometer for measuring a viewer's geek-level. Let's face it... if you're not a comic-book aficionado (i.e. if you're normal), this statuette looks like something from a fever-dream. You're scratching your head and asking, Did Spider-Man ever dress like that? Did he only fight crime while facing to our left? Was a yellow sweater vest ever in fashion? What IS he holding in his right hand that looks either like cotton candy or the top knot of a troll doll?
But if you're the average CCI attendee, you know exactly what this statuette depicts: original Spider-Man artist Steve Ditko's visual representation of the fact that science nerd Peter Parker (holding a smoking test tube) is also your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. It's iconic... and okay, yeah, it looks a little weird, but I'm sure there's 999 other guys out there like me that will turn this into a collector's item. So I stopped by the Dark Horse booth and picked this up. The booth was rather sizeable, and I had to ask around to find the super-exclusive, in-the-back area to ask for these. But I found it, and after giving the pass-phrase ("Spidey sent me") and my credit card to the guy, he handed over the figure. Even he thought the figure looked like it was made during a bad trip, but he was young and had the luxury of knowing that no one is ever talked OUT of buying something at Comic-Con.
After that, we left the Convention Center and made our way back toward the hotel to wait for Sam's late-night arrival. On the way, we got some conventional fast food for dinner; Sam had already missed out on Shakey's Bunch-Of-Lunch, and we didn't want to go anywhere special without him.
Going on-line back at the hotel, I discovered that people who just wanted to pick up their badges and had no desire to go to the Convention Center that night, could go to the Town and Country hotel located in Mission Valley, well away from downtown San Diego and the Convention Center. I also discovered, thanks to the instantaneous griping service offered by Facebook, that badge pickup at the Town and Country resembled a D-Day beachhead, but with less cordiality. Apparently, so many people showed up at the Town & Country that there were traffic jams and crazy lines that went on for hours. Although there's lots of people at the Convention Center on preview night, badge pickup has always been a breeze, so I was thankful that I didn't hear about the Town and Country alternative until it was too late for me to exercise my gift of going to the wrong place at the wrong time.
I can pretty much go to sleep regardless of any surrounding activity, so I turned in around 9 and counted on Ben to let Sam in whenever he arrived. Sam was there the next morning, so I'm assuming his arrival was uneventful. There may have been an issue of Ben not answering the phone or door when Sam arrived--- Sam might have been forced to break into the room, and shots may have been fired--- but I didn't see it firsthand, so I won't give the rumors credence.
DAY ONE - THURSDAY, JULY 21, 2011
Although we had thought about trying to get next year's tickets during today's 8-10 am window, we decided to postpone that effort till the next day. This was partly because Sam still had to go through the badge pick-up process for THIS year's badge, and we didn't want to take a disproportionate amount of Con time picking up tickets at two different zip codes.
We had reserved parking in a structure just to the east of the Convention Center, and as we made our way to the badge pick-up area, we passed the plaza outside Hall H, which had been set up as a holding area for folks waiting in line for the Hall doors to open. As you may recall from past Comic-Con journals (he said ironically), Hall H is the biggest room in the house, with a seating capacity of over 6000. At CCI, it's the venue featuring the Hollywood contingent of the Con; studios promote their upcoming projects there, and all sorts of stars are there to answer questions and do some soul-searching after meeting this segment of their fan base. Hall H epitomizes the "Hollywood" part of the Con that many long-time CCI attendees say is ruining the convention by making it less about comics and more about show business. So it must drive them crazy to see scenes like this outside of Hall H:
These are people who had been camping out since the night before in order to be there for the opening program scheduled in Hall H for 11:15 that morning: a sneak peek at The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part One, featuring the cast and film-makers. As I've wandered the Convention floor in the past couple of years, eavesdropping on casual conversation, I've noticed that there's a hard-core nostalgic group of CCI attendees that have a particular disdain (if not outright hostility) for the Twi-Hards, viewing them as the epitome of the "Hollywood-ization" of the Con. Knowing that as I passed by this line, I wondered how many of the sleeping bags concealed pepper spray, tasers, and semi-automatic weapons as a precaution against a comic fan melt-down.
We waited while Sam went through the badge pick-up process, then wandered through the Sails Pavilion and Exhibit Hall in the time before splitting up to attend the various programs. I snapped a few random photos:
You can always find some impressive Lego sculptures at CCI... at least they're impressive if you believe they're 100% Lego, and not some mannequin that's been plated with Legos. This one of Batman was pretty impressive, but somehow I felt cheated that they hadn't gone the extra mile with the cape.
Here's a life-size figure of Han Solo vacuum-wrapped in Carbonite from The Empire Strikes Back...
I see this every year, and every year I take a picture of it. I'm still trying to convince my wife that it would make a great coffee table for our living room.
Of course, there's always interesting costumes at the Con, and a couple caught my eye:
This guy pixelated his head using cardboard box technology. I thought it was a pretty clever costume idea, till I noticed him bumping into walls and tripping over toddlers.
This next one's a bit blurry, but I had to include it anyway...
This guy had developed a centaur costume that didn't involve another person assuming the role of the posterior, thus eliminating the classic "rump-sway" problem that's inherent with that costume design. I'm sure he got enough compliments on the costume to make it worth spiking his body temperature to 150 degrees and trying to negotiate tight corners on the crowded Exhibit Hall floor.
Attending the panel for the TV series Psych had become an annual tradition for me. The cast members are entertaining, and the USA network always gives away T-shirts that I procure for the lovely and talented Susan, who is the show's number one fan (in a non-creepy way). The show started at 12:30 in Ballroom 20 (the Convention Center's second largest room), but from past experience, I knew I had to get in line early, so around 10:45 I made my way to the outdoor queuing area, which is about the same dimensions as the flight deck of the USS Nimitz. The line looked intimidating, but there were a couple of shows scheduled before Psych, so folks have to wait till the break between programs, when people exit and more folks are allowed in. In a room that seats over 5000, a long line moves fast when the time comes to let more people in. CCI doesn't clear a room between programs... if you want to stay for the next program, you can keep your seat as the previous program ends... but there's always so much going on at the Con, that you can usually count on a good turnover in any room. So I did my time in line.
The exterior queuing area is in a huge balcony-like veranda overlooking the marina at the back of the convention center. I noticed a boat moored out there....
... or maybe it's a yacht; I'm not sure how that works, exactly. I think the minute you pin a TV Guide sign on a vessel, you lose the right to call it a yacht. Anyway, I was more intrigued with why TV Guide would have a maritime unit. Is there really a lot of TV news generated on the high seas since they cancelled McHale's Navy, Gilligan's Island, and The Love Boat?
As time marched on and the line didn't, my confidence in attending the Psych panel waned. There'd been a break between the Burn Notice panel and the Covert Affairs panel and there hadn't seemed to be much forward progress. Now that it was 12:30, the scheduled start time for Psych, and there was still a half-mile of people between me and the ballroom door, I began to think that I couldn't count on past experience to repeat itself. Sure enough, a CCI volunteer with a sadistic streak started down the line at about 12:45, letting us know that if we were still in line for the Psych panel, we were the poster-children for futility.
Later I learned the cause of my undoing. There was a Game of Thrones panel scheduled at 3:00 in Ballroom 20. I don't know a lot about Game of Thrones... apparently it's an HBO series bases on a popular series of fantasy novels dealing with the drama and intrigue inherent in the rearranging of royal furniture. But the people who do know a lot about Game of Thrones---and make it popular--- were at CCI in full force. Much like the Occupy Hall H crowd, they had descended on Ballroom 20 for the first scheduled program of the day, and then just stayed there till the afternoon to ensure they'd have a seat for the Game of Thrones event. It was well-played; obviously the Game of Thrones fanatics had a firmer grasp of boots-on-the-ground strategy than us Psych fanatics.
The rest of the day I spent either in the Exhibit Hall, or at some panels that spotlighted some of the senior comic book folks. I like listening to the stories of the older guys, who were writing and drawing the comics in my school days. They bring a different perspective to the industry than the younger guys that are currently making comics, and they don't draw the crowds, so over the past few years I've spent less time with the TV and movie events and more time with the AARP crowd. This day I attended a panel featuring Sergio Aragones (the guy who's been drawing those little cartoons between the panels of Mad Magazine for as long as I can remember); a panel featuring a bunch of other guys who have worked on Mad Magazine over the years; and a panel featuring Roy Thomas, a comic book writer and editor who's about my age, but worked in comics during the time when a lot of the older guys were still the heavy lifters.
My friend Alan had shown up today, so I connected with him off and on. When he picked up his badge, they also issued him his a badge replacing the one he lost the year before, encased in Mylar and labeled "one of 126,273". I think it's up on EBay now.
We picked up some fast food on the way back to the hotel. Normally, when we're at the Con, we try to have dinner somewhere that offers something other than the fare we can get at home, and we had some places in mind for this trip. But one of Sam's friends was also attending the Con and needed a place to stay on Thursday night (he had something lined up for the other nights) so we were letting him crash in our hotel room, and we wanted to be there to surreptitiously hustle him into the room inside one of the over-sized Comic-Con/Warner Brothers tote bags.
Speaking of the tote bags, which are big enough to hold a family of four: the design was slightly tweaked this year so that, with a slight adjustment to the carrier straps, it could be converted into a backpack. Granted, it's a huge backpack, but it was a convenient feature as long as you didn't fill the bag to capacity, and were willing to step over the folks who did.
So the day ended with us welcoming Adam (Sam's friend) into the room, having him sign the confidentiality agreements, and bedding down for the night.
DAY TWO - FRIDAY, JULY 22, 2011
We had decided to try to score next year's tickets today, during the 8-10 am window being offered at a ballroom at the neighboring Hyatt. We figured there would be a line forming early, so we arrived at the Hyatt lobby at around 7 am. There was a harried-looking security guard pointing his gun at anyone with a CCI badge, so we figured he was a good guy to get directions from. He advised us that the ballroom was located beyond the doors directly behind him, but only a limited number of advance tickets were being offered each day, and that number of people were already lined up in the ballroom. Sure enough, one of the ballroom doors was open, and I could see a large group of CCI attendees milling around like cattle just before the big drive... I think I could even hear Frankie Laine singing Rawhide while cracking a whip. I told the security guy that we didn't realize that allotting a one-hour approach to the 8-10 window was like showing up at Disneyland with pocket-change, and asked him how early we should arrive if we tried again tomorrow. He suggested 5 or 6 am.
So we ambled over to downtown San Diego, conveniently located across the street from the Convention Center, and found a place to have some breakfast while we waited for the Con to open. On the walk back to the Con, I snapped some pictures of some of the over-sized advertising in the area:
This is pretty self-explanatory... they actually premiered this film at CCI. As anyone who knows me can attest, my anticipation was high for this movie. I think some Universal market research guy called my wife and asked what two plot elements I look for in a movie, and then based the movie title on her answer. It's about the most up-front movie title I've seen since Snakes On A Plane, but that probably worked against them... like many movies that are bally-hooed at CCI, its box-office was disappointing to the studio. I didn't attend the premier, since I knew I could see the movie hassle-free at my local theater, where the auditorium wouldn't be filled to capacity with folks celebrating Halloween in July.
This was draped over the nearby Marriot. You wouldn't know it by the poster, but this is promoting a video game, not a comic book. There was a similar one pasted on the side of nearby Petco Stadium, where the Padres play...
I guess these are pretty impressive, if for no other reason than having a skyscraper-sized Batman glowering down at you. But I wonder if some CCI attendees were mugged at night while wandering down dark alleys because of a subliminally-induced false sense of security.
For a little variety, there was also a giant Smurf...
Personally, I found this more disturbing than the Batman posters. In fact, I'm still having nightmares.
One of the first panels of the day was Star Trek: The Captains, featuring William Shatner and Avery Brooks, and moderated by Kevin Smith (a screenwriter-director who also writes comics, which automatically makes one a deity at CCI). I thought about going to it, but there were already tons of people lined up in hopes of both getting a glimpse of William Shatner and finding out who Avery Brooks is. I already knew he was the captain of Deep Space Nine, a Star Trek spin-off that, although lasting a very respectable seven seasons, doesn't seem to have the rabid fan base that the other shows do. So the only reason for me to want to attend was to learn more about the same-titled documentary it was promoting... a documentary produced and directed by William Shatner, in which William Shatner travels the world to interview all the actors who have ever played Starfleet captains... like William Shatner.
I decided that wasn't reason enough to attempt the panel. I was already acquainted with Mr. Shatner's interviewing style from his appropriately-titled Biography channel show Raw Nerve. I'm sure it's just me, but when he asks personal questions in that inimitable Shatner speaking cadence, it creeps me out ("When both your parents died in that accident.... that must have been....devastating... for you.... I know it would be for me.... I would have.... thrown myself... into my work... So tell me... on that day... with your... soul... laid bare.... what did you have for lunch?"). Later, the documentary showed up on Netflix streaming, and I couldn't make it through his first interview with Professor X.
So instead I went to a panel analyzing how important the first page of a comic book is, and reviewing some of the great first pages. It was a good choice; there were folks at the entrance to the room handing out dollar bills to anyone who would attend.
After that, I went to another old-timer's panel, a tribute to Gene Colan. Gene was one of those guys who started drawing comics in the '40s and was one of Marvel Comics' bedrock artists during the 60s and 70s. He stayed pretty active all the way into his 80s, and died in June, just a month before the Con. I was lucky enough to hear him reminisce at the previous 2010 Con, and people who worked with him did some further reminiscing at this panel. Guys from this era of comics are disappearing fast, and I think their perspective on their work is markedly different than the following generations, so I always like to hear the stories of their interaction with younger creators and editors. Also, it's safe to say that, for the most part, these guys really didn't get a lot of respect for what they did until later in their life, when comics fandom took off, so it's always fun to see how they react in a room full of people expressing appreciation for their work. All this to say I get a bit wistful at these "tribute" panels, especially when the subject is someone we got to see just the year before.
Keeping with the nostalgia theme, I also went to That 70's Panel, populated by writers and artists that were working during the 70's, when a new generation of creators were taking over from the old guys. Of course, the guys from this "new generation" aren't exactly spring chickens anymore... I graduated high school in 1972, so these panelists weren't much older than me. I guess the term "old guys" is relative, and not usually aimed at the guy in the mirror.
I was curious about a couple of other panels, but I wasn't able to fit them in:
Locke & Key FOX Pilot Screening: there's a pretty popular comic, written by Joe Hill, the son of Stephen King, for which a television pilot was produced for the Fox Network. It was turned down by Fox, so it was never aired, but I could have seen the opening episode if I had attended this panel. This is the kind of thing that appeals to the streak of masochism that's a part of the make-up of your average CCI attendee. Let's face it: a person going to this screening is either going to hate how the pilot treated the comic book and come away depressed; or they're going to love it and, knowing it will never see air, come away depressed. But they still attend the panel... so CCI programmers continue to dumpster-dive at the studio back lots.
Totally LOST: One Year Later: a couple of guys from Entertainment Weekly were conducting this panel reminiscing about this series (the show hasn't really been gone long enough to use the phrase "waxing nostalgic"). I watched the whole series, and thought about going to this in the hope that they would explain the show to me, but then realized they couldn't possibly accomplish that in the hour allotted. I didn't particularly want to be in the dandruff storm resulting from a room full of people scratching their heads so I skipped this.. The programming notes indicated they were also going to "look to the future by previewing promising TV obsessions." Only at CCI is the word "obsession" preceded by the adjective "promising." I hope they knew not to screen the Locke & Key pilot.
I managed to snap a few more pictures while wandering around the grounds:
The pictures above and below are of the DeLorean used in Back To The Future Part III.
According tot he plaque next to the car, there were seven DeLoreans used for the three movies (which means DeLorean sales tripled between 1985 and 1990). Of that seven, only three still survive, and two are still owned by Universal. This one is the only one under private ownership. I really wanted to ask the guy how he convinced his wife to let him get this... I'd still like the Carbonite Han Solo coffee table... but he was busy on his cell phone trying to secure the title to the Lost Ark of the Covenant.
Later, I ran into another BTTF DeLorean:
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This isn't one of the last 3 originals; it's something custom-built by Mattel to promote their Hot Wheels line. They have something like this every year at the Con; in previous years we've seen the 60s Batmobile, the Love Bug, the Dukes of Hazzard car, and other vehicles so culturally significant that Mattel felt the need to make facsimiles. Although we could hear the sniffs of disdain coming from the other booth where the real thing was located, we still thought this version was pretty cool, mostly because Mattel decked it out with all the props, like the remote control unit, the video camera... even Marty's skateboard. I gotta admit... I wanted to jump in this baby and crank it up to 88 miles per hour.
Someone had an R2 unit modified for hospitality...
And there was this guy that I thought was a giant Lego version of Bumblebee from Transformers,...
But on closer inspection, I was wrong. This statue of Bumblebee was actually erected by Kre-O, a Hasbro brand that was apparently third or fourth in line behind Lego on that fateful day in the patent office.
Every year, for about as long as we've been attending CCI, we've run across this guy while wandering around the Exhibit Hall floor....
He always wears the same costume, inspired by Alvin the Chipmunk's signature floor-length turtleneck from The Alvin Show, a cartoon that aired in the 60s:
I told Ben and Sam that if I saw this guy again this year, I would talk to him instead of just gawking. So when we spotted him yet again on the Exhibit Hall floor, I walked up to him and introduced myself, and, to his credit, he didn't immediately assume a martial arts defensive posture. After I explained why I wanted to say hi, he was very gracious and even let me snap a picture of him. His name is actually Alvin, but I was relieved to hear that his voice is about 5 octaves below his namesake. He gave me his card (sorry, Alvin, I've lost it), and we shared some old-timer Comic-Con stories. I told him that this might be our last year because of the difficult advance-ticket system that CCI had instituted, and that we were told to show up tomorrow at around 5 am. He said he had already gone through the process, and he recommended showing up at 3 or 4 in the morning. I thanked him for the advice, told him it was nice meeting him, and rejoined Ben and Sam, who had retreated to a distance they hoped would show everyone that they weren't associated with the old guy snapping pictures of Alvin.
At the end of this day, one of Ben's friends who had arrived by train needed a place to stay. So we connected with Francis, then we left the Convention Center and took an ironic drive to Normal Heights, a San Diego suburb and home to Lefty's Pizza, which serves Chicago-style pizza pies that have become another of my Comic-Con traditions. We judiciously phoned ahead, so our pizza was ready by the time we got there. That means a lot at Lefty's... the establishment isn't much bigger than the boxes they put their pizza into, so there's no good place to hang around if you have to wait.
We concluded the day by first agreeing to get up at 3:00 the next morning and trying to score advance tickets; and then agreeing that we were nuts.
DAY THREE - SATURDAY, JULY 23, 2011
We all managed to get up at 3 am; I won't go into the details out of respect to anyone in the audience with delicate sensibilities. Suffice it to say, we were four adult males rousted out of our beds at an indecent hour so we could go stand in line to get tickets to an event that was 12 months away... the few San Diego residents who were out that morning took one look at us and headed for shelter.
I put the car in a metered curbside parking space across the street from the Hyatt. It was too early to park in the pre-paid parking structure, and its location at the opposite side of the world made it impractical anyway. The curbside parking meter didn't start ticking till 8 am, and if my car were still there by that time, the Convention Center traffic would make towing impractical, short of bringing in city helicopters to airlift vehicles away.
We stepped into the Hyatt lobby and were directed to a rear exit that took us out to the marina side of the hotel, and from there the line was obvious (or at least as obvious as anything can be at 3:30 in the morning). We followed its rather circuitous route and finally found the end of it out on one of the marina's breakwaters.
Below is a map of the area, with the blue line representing the pre-registration queue, as best as I can remember it. Keep in mind that the map is scaled to 1/4 inch per light-year.
The line wasn't really moving when we arrived... they'd start letting us inside the building a little later. So we settled down on the sidewalk and worked iPad crossword puzzles to pass the time, which would ordinarily be the equivalent of tattooing "loser" on one's forehead, but that ship had sailed when we got in line in the first place. We kept looking behind us to see when the line would hit the end of the jetty and CCI would start issuing snorkels.
Here's a shot of the small segment of the line along the "shoppe" section of the marina. It doesn't really give you a sense of the length of the line, but it gives you a rough idea of where we were in relation to the where the actual Con was taking place... see the Marriott building on the right? The Convention Center is on the other side of that. Lots of people in line were on their cell phones, booking flights back to the Convention Center.
Around 6 am, they started letting us into the gigantic ballroom they had set up for 2012 ticket sales. Before getting in the door, our CCI badges were examined to make sure that we were legitimate 2011 attendees, and if we passed muster, we were given a "temporary" ticket that gave us the right to purchase one ticket for ourselves, and one for somebody else. We were told that only 2400 of these temporary tickets were issued per day, but that was from a guy on the waterfront with no teeth and a tin-foil hat, so I didn't start breathing easy till we made it through the door...
... and into this room:
I didn't have the presence of mind to snap a picture while I was there, so I pulled this off the web (and no, I don't know what a "nerd reactor" is, but just saying the words make me nervous).
We all milled about this room till about 8 am, when they started letting us approach the pre-registration counters. Till then, we heard periodic announcements reminding us that, although we were now guaranteed the right to purchase a 2012 ticket, there were no guarantee what kind of ticket might be available by the time we made it to the counter. There were only a limited number of 4 day passes (and even fewer of 4-day-plus-preview-night passes), so there was a possibility that by the time a person crawled up to the ticket booth, he might only have the option to purchase single-day tickets. If that happened, we were told, there were counselors standing by.
Because the temporary ticket allowed the holder to purchase an additional pass, there were lots of folks calling absent friends and family to see if they wanted a ticket purchased on their behalf. So there were a lot of microwaves bouncing around the room and some people were warming a danish, or reheating their coffee by raising it above their heads. Since Ben and Sam could get their own tickets, I gave my absent friend Alan (fortunately, an early riser) a call to see if he wanted me to pick up a ticket for him. He wasn't sure if someone else had already done this for him, so, after a few phone calls, we finally decided that when it comes to the Comic-Con, you can't be too anal, and I got him a ticket.
(Later, Alan confirmed that another ticket had been purchased on his behalf. No problem... we were able to return that ticket at a later date, where it was immediately snatched up by someone who had been waiting on-line since 2005).
We got out of there somewhere between 8:30 and 9:00... I moved my car to the parking structure and, although it felt like we should break for lunch, we officially started the Saturday Con day.
Saturday is usually the busiest day for the Con; ironically, it turned out to be the day with the least amount of panels to catch my interest. So I spent some more time taking some pictures in the Exhibit Hall, where attendance had reached the point that the Fire Marshall was on the bullhorn instructing people to breath in unison.
Below is a rather imposing figure of Voltron...
I guess the big lug is making some sort of a come-back. He might be a big galactic warrior, but here it just looks like he's gingerly trying to make his way through the Comic-Con crowd.
The picture below isn't great--- I had to snap it in a hurry--- but I had to include it:
Where else but Comic-Con can you see Superman and He-Man in an earnest discussion? I'm not sure what they were talking over... at the time I snapped this picture, it looked like they were comparing codpieces, and I really didn't want to be part of that conversation.
There were some pretty impressive life-size figures at some of the booths. Here's one promoting the new Spider-Man movie:
It would almost look like a real guy hanging there if it wasn't for the seam in the middle of his right leg. I'm guessing somebody dropped Spidey during booth set-up and they quickly used a Costco-sized bottle of Super-Glue to re-attach his leg.
The figure below isn't very lifelike, but It's pretty disturbing...
Apparently this is supposed to be a pro wrestler who goes by the moniker of Undertaker. I'm not a follower of pro wrestling, though I understand from fans that it's a pretty competitive sport and that it's real, doggone it! It must be pretty competitive if you have to dress like this to make an impression. When I saw this, two questions immediately came to my mind: 1) Does he wrestle with the hat? and 2) He should have joined Superman and He-Man for the cod-piece discussion.
Speaking of Superman, and going from the ridiculous to the sublime, we came across this figure of Christopher Reeve as The Man Of Steel...
Honestly, at first glance as I walked by this booth, I thought it was a real guy standing there. Then I took a second look, and thought it was Christopher Reeve standing there. At that point I considered grabbing one of the Ghostbusters (and believe me, there were plenty of those guys walking around the Exhibit Hall) but upon a third closer look, I could see it was just an incredibly life-like figure. Still, I bet the area around this booth was crime-free.
I came across this diorama below...
Sort of hard to see here, but an outfit called Monster Arts had come up with this scene with Godzilla, Space Godzilla, Mecha Godzilla, and Mogera duking it out at the San Diego Convention Center. I had never heard of Mogera before, but some quick research tells me that Mogera is actually an acronym for Mobile Operation Godzilla Expert Robot Aero-Type, designed by the U.N. to fight Godzilla. Glad to see our Unicef pennies being put to good use.
The booth below caught our attention:
I'm not sure what it was promoting, but it seemed to be set up as a relaxing oasis amid the chaos of the Exhibit Hall floor. Apparently it was sort of like the VIP lounge at an airport... you had to be someone special to sit down there. Otherwise the Lex Luthor bouncer in the sweatshirt would move your meditation elsewhere.
At some point while we were inching our way through the highly-concentrated group of bodies that populates the Comic-Con Exhibit Hall on Saturday, we could hear a loud voice behind us yelling "Excuse me! Coming through! Excuse me, please! Coming through!" By now, I'm used to this kind of proclamation coming from somewhere in the Con crowd, and it's usually from a disabled person in a wheelchair or a "mobility scooter" (like the kind made by Rascal) that you see wiping out displays at your local supermarket. In the Comic-Con sea of humanity, scooters and wheelchairs and even strollers can be highly problematic; and to its credit, most of the Con crowd will courteously yield as they become aware of the approach of this kind of hardware.
Of course, there are some mobility scooter pilots that take a more pro-active approach to promoting awareness of their proximity by loudly announcing their forward motion. Usually, all folks within a 20 foot radius get the message... but, of course, only about one sixth of those folks are actually somewhere near the scooter's flight path, so these kind of proclamations usually result in a bunch of people looking around in confusion, with the lucky sixth being swept in an unintended direction.
When I heard the yelling, I looked around to see if I had to move (and if I could move) and I saw the scooter in question making its way through the crowd as if it were high-end Toro riding mower. Like I said, it's tough enough to get around the Con in a modestly-equipped mobility scooter... but what I saw coming through the crowd like a snowplow was a tricked-out scooter with a large dragon's head at its prow. I couldn't get a picture of it at the time, but I caught sight of it later on the sidewalk in front of the Convention Center:
Maybe it's just me, but this doesn't seem like the ideal vehicle for negotiating high-density crowds. An ordinary scooter has a tough time... it seems like you're just making things more difficult when you start adding reptilian accessories and sun roofs to the mix. But this gentlemen seemed to manage okay, so I guess the additional intimidation factor compensated for cumbersome extras.
While I was out on the sidewalk getting the picture of the Rascalsaurus, I also came across this guy:
Yes, that's right... they apparently make Green Lantern Underoos in adult sizes, and if one adds a dime-store mask and a pair of green athletic socks, they qualify as a costume. I'm not sure what the concept was... I know in the Green Lantern movie, the power ring actually generated the costume, so maybe this is what happens as the ring loses power. Personally, I don't think it's appropriate sidewalk attire, but I could be jealous... if I decided to patrol the town in my Underoos, people would be clawing their eyes out instead of standing around matter-of-factly.
I was back in my comfort zone when I took a picture of some more conventional Convention costuming:
There's something about a pint-sized Wolverine in sneakers that cracks me up.
In the Exhibit Hall, Sam had the opportunity to sit in the Emperor's chair from Star Wars, flanked by Darth Vader and an Imperial Trooper:
I think he was trying to give off a menacing vibe, but to me he just looks like he's waiting for someone to hand him a remote and a can of soda. For a caption, I'm thinking: "Is this any way to run a galaxy?"
Of course, I didn't spend the whole day taking poor-quality photos. I managed to see a panel featuring Jerry Robinson. Mr. Robinson, as you might recall, was one of the ghost artists for Batman during the 40s. He, along with others like Bill Finger and Sheldon Moldoff, were uncredited artists working for Bob Kane, the man who is generally acknowledged as the creator of Batman. Contractually, Kane was credited for the others' work on the Batman comics. Finger and Moldoff are now getting some of the recognition they deserve, but I think it's safe to say that Jerry Robinson managed to more successfully emerge from Kane's shadow and stay active in the business. I'm glad I got to see him and listen to some of his stories, because he passed away in December 2011, a few months after this appearance.
There was another panel that day that featured an artist that was quite influential in the 60's and 70's. Since that was the time I was neck-deep into the hobby (or "way of life" as it's called at the Con), I figured here was yet another opportunity to see another old-time creator, but this time it was one where I was actually around at the time he hit the scene. It turned out to be the most interesting panel I attended.
We'll call this gentleman Cliff Amazo. As you've probably guessed, that's not his real name. This panel was the only time I've ever seen this gentleman, and the impression I gained from him might be wrong, so I'll feel more comfortable poking fun at a pseudonym.
Most of the Con programs that focus on an individual start about the same way as any other panel: a moderator (usually a CCI guy or a fellow professional) and the guest of honor enter the room from a side door, make their way to the table on the stage, the moderator introduces the subject, there's a round of applause, and the discussion gets under way.
The start of this one was a bit different. An announcer got on the mike (I later heard this was someone who worked for Cliff, but I don't know if that's true) and gave an introduction like something at the start of a prize fight. Then Cliff entered from the back of the room, strode up the center aisle, and took his place at the table. He was dressed quite nattily and he had a full head of perfectly-coiffed snow-white hair. He looked in great shape for a guy in his 70s... probably in better shape than most of the folks in the audience, but that bar is pretty low at the Comic-Con.
In the course of the program, it became clear to me that Cliff considers his last name a brand, so he was pretty much addressed as "Amazo" most of the time, even by himself... Amazo often refers to himself in the third person.
What followed was a series of anecdotes about Amazo by Amazo, mostly about what an amazing guy Amazo was. Besides being a comic-book artist, there are many other items in his résumé, which presumably has as many pages as the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act: accomplished martial artist; escape artist; advertising artist; magician; comic-book historian; concept artist for films; publisher; sideshow performer, jazz guitarist; boxer; and probably some top-secret work for the government.
I won't go over all the stories that were related in the next hour, but here's some examples that set the tone. I might not get all the details right, but you'll get the gist.
Amazo related his encounter with some toughs who were pursuing him on motorcycles. He waited till they got close, then jammed on the brakes of his Cadillac, causing some consternation and road rash among his pursuers. After the abrupt stop, he immediately pulled ahead, then stopped and looked back at the carnage. "Some people might have taken the opportunity to get out of there," Amazo related, "but that's not the Amazo way. I put the Caddy in reverse and backed that sucker up!" The crowd went crazy; not only was this guy tough, he was witty! Maybe Oscar Wilde would have gotten a similar ovation, if he had told a biker story.
At one point during the program, Amazo shared that his knuckles had a permanent layer of callous that he kept honed to a razor-sharp edge. He then called a female audience member up on stage to feel his knuckles and confirm the claim. From my seat near the back, it was tough to see the lady's demeanor. It's not every day you're picked out of an audience to feel a guy's knuckles, so I'm not sure if she were uncomfortable, or just duly impressed.
Background for one other story: About the two most revered names at the Comic-Con are comic-book greats Jack Kirby and Will Eisner. Any of you reading this don't have to know who these two guys are, but if you're at the Con, you either know about these two gentlemen or you'll find out about them. Writer and artist Will Eisner, creator of The Spirit comic strip, is generally credited as being the "father" of the graphic novel because he produced and published a collection of stories titled A Contract With God in 1978 that was only released as a real book (with a binding and everything!) rather than first appearing in some other form.
Amazo, however, had produced an original digest-sized hard-boiled detective story in 1976. As I recall, it didn't have any word balloons... mostly text accompanied by Amazo's great illustrations... but I wouldn't argue with anybody that wanted to call it a graphic novel.
Amazo shared that he was a little disappointed about the controversy that surrounds the graphic novel. Until then, I wasn't aware of this particular controversy, but of course I was in a venue where folks are still demanding to see Wolverine's birth certificate, so it's tough to know about every point of Convention contention. At any rate, Amazo shared that he would hardly consider a collection of short stories a "novel", and besides, he had published his detective story in 1976. He then put the microphone in his mouth and intoned, "CASE CLOSED." And the crowd went wild.
Amazo may have had some legitimate points, and they may matter to whoever out there besides Amazo cares about what the first graphic novel was. But the tone of it made me a bit uncomfortable. Eisner's an old guy--- older than Amazo--- and besides that, he's dead. Was it necessary to set the record straight in such a manner?
Amazo also gave the audience a choice between hearing a story involving Steven Spielberg, or one involving Stan Lee. The crowd picked Stan Lee, in the hopes of hearing at least one comics-related antidote that maybe didn't end in bloodshed. So Amazo told the story about how he was hired at Marvel comics. Basically, upon being told by Stan's secretary Flo that Stan didn't see folks without an appointment, Amazo told Flo "He'll want to see me," and marched on into Stan's office and was immediately given his choice of any Marvel comic book to work on. Then he backed his car over Stan.
Just kidding about that last part.
If is was feeling uncharitable, I could say I was witnessing an expert exercise in self-aggrandizement, if I knew what the term meant, or had the energy to look it up. But let's face it... the panel was about Amazo. In a room full of Amazo fans, he felt right at home. It's safe to say I was in the minority when I looked at this white-haired, impeccably-dressed man basking in the limelight and saw Ted Baxter, except with more talent and ego.
We decided to end the long Saturday by eating diner at Phil's BBQ. Phil's is a place we thought about trying last year, till we saw the line snaking outside the front door and around the building, and decided that we'd rather eat at a place that keeps the crowd manageable by serving mediocre meals.
But things changed in the time between the previous Con and this one. Sam, who only watches TV shows that feature people eating, had seen a couple of shows that recommended the ribs at Phil's (he also got halfway through a documentary on the Donner Party before he realized that not every show about eating is good for the appetite). After being enlightened, he made me promise that on this trip to the Con, we would give Phil's a try no matter how intimidating the crowd.
And of course, on a Saturday evening, the line was out the door and around a couple of corners, but this time we chose to view the line as an endorsement rather than an obstacle. Phil's shares its parking lot with a bunch of other businesses that probably wonder why everyone parking in front of their shops never step inside their establishments, and then leave a trail of used wet-naps when they drive off. We found a space in front of a do-it-yourself doggie wash. Sam and Ben saw the proprietor giving us the stink-eye as we got out of the car, and made a good show of looking around, whistling, shaking our heads, and calling "Wolfie! Here, Wolfie! Now where did that dog take off to?" We shrugged apologetically and went to look for Wolfie over at the Phil's line.
After about 15 minutes, we made it around the first corner. There was a sign letting us know that we were on a webcam. Sure enough, later I checked out Phil's website, and there's a live feed that lets folks at home know just how desperate for BBQ some people can become.
About 20 minutes later, we made it just inside the entrance doors, where we could see an overhead menu display. At Phil's, you walk up to a counter, place your order, are given one of those vibrating pager doohickeys, and find your own table, where you wait till your order comes up. We knew we wanted the beef ribs, but there was a choice between a 3-rib dinner and a 5-rib dinner. My factory default is the larger-portion setting, so I went for the 5-rib dinner, which comes with a couple of sides, and Ben, Sam, and Francis followed my lead. The onion rings looked good, so I ordered a large plate of those for the four of us also.
Reading this now, you probably think the order sounds excessive, but we really hadn't eaten much all day, and, while 5 ribs might be a Hungry-Man level dinner, I wouldn't call it gluttonous. There were pictures of the plates on the menu, but the pictures weren't actual size, and there was nothing to give them scale. I tried to get an idea of the servings by looking at what other folks were eating, but it's hard to discreetly check out stranger's dining options at a BBQ place, where people are smeared with sauce and surrounded by bones that have been gnawed clean of any meat, and consequently view any scrutiny as judgmental.
I'm saying all this in my own defense; I really didn't know what I was getting into when we placed our order. I should have known something was up when they put defibrillator paddles next to our knives and forks.
When our pager went off and we went to fetch our plates, it was pretty obvious we were in trouble. It occurred to me that whoever took the pictures for the menu might indeed have had someone standing next to the plate for scale, but the model might have inadvertently stepped behind the plate at the moment the shutter snapped. These were the kind of ribs they bring to Fred's car at the end of every Flintstones episode. We hauled the food back to our table with only one rest stop, then took a deep breath before digging in.
I don't remember a whole lot after that. I know we all managed to finish our ribs. I remember Ben saying something to me towards the end of the meal, and I know I saw his mouth making sounds, but by then, any resources that my body would otherwise dedicate to complex motor and language skills had been re-directed to digesting the huge lump of meat that had been introduced rather quickly into my system. I know that the plate of onion rings were never touched, and I suspect that it was just a plastic sculpture of that dish that Phil's kept handy for occasions like this, where there was no way in the universe that we would have the strength to even lift an onion ring, let alone work up the courage to use one as a rib chaser.
I know I crawled out to the car and managed to make it back to the hotel. I did a headcount soon after I arrived in the room, and everyone was accounted for, but I really couldn't say if they all came back with me. I just know I spent my last few moments of consciousness that night gasping and groaning and making a mental note to go to Phil's anytime I visited San Diego.
DAY FOUR - SUNDAY, JULY 24, 2011
Not much to report for this day. There weren't any panels we were interested in, so we took one last pass through the Exhibition Hall, then headed for home. As we reflected on this year's Con, a few things became clear:
- In spite of the ever-increasing crowds (as I write this, they're probably still trying to clear Hall H), we had a great time. But, as I've said before, although I enjoy watching the people and going to the panels, probably 80% of my enjoyment is hanging out with my sons, who share some of my enthusiasm for the popular culture celebrated there. Frankly, if we all spent the day at the zoo, I'd probably enjoy it just as much, but the Con gives me a multi-day opportunity to have some fun with them. Who knows how long that opportunity will keep presenting itself?
- Ironically, the 2012 Comic-Con might be the last one we attend. No, we haven't finally been worn down by the crowds and the glitz... but if it's going to be as hard to get 2013 Con tickets at the 2012 Con as it was to get the 2012 tickets at the 2011 Con, then we might decide that it's time to consider some other conventions where ticket demand isn't so high. I'm currently looking at the Calcutta Comic-Con or the Death Valley Summer Fan Expo.
- Life is precious, but trimming a few years off one's life expectancy is a small price to pay for an evening at Phil's BBQ.
If you made it this far, thanks for enduring the entire account, which is sort of the literary equivalent of a meal at Phil's. Barring an injunction by the EPA, I'll eventually get around to producing a 2012 Comic-Con journal. Due to the mysteries of time and space, by the time you're reading this, the 2012 Con has already happened, and we've already attended, but most of this was written before July 2012 at the rate of one word an hour (I type about as fast as I read).
Actually, there's just been a lot of real-life things happening that ironically have taken up a good share of the time I would normally spend making things up and trying to pass them off as real-life. I'm going to try to get back to more regular postings, but I'll wait before diving right into another Comic-Con journal. That's bad news/good news for any of you that are still reading this. There may not be many of you, but I know I have at least a handful of stalwart, loyal hard-core readers consisting of alter-egos I've concocted and added as my Facebook friends. I value their feedback, and I know their comments aren't meant to be as incredibly cruel as they sound.
Maybe by the time I write the next Comic-Con journal, the dreams about ribs will have stopped.