As Ken stepped down, my lovely wife Susan stepped up. She came along with me and my sons for (I believe) the 2005 and 2006 conventions. Sue’s philosophy is that any time together as a family is quality time, and we did indeed have a good time together. But now she’s back on her meds, and she decided last year that we could survive without her contribution. Her relapse into good sense was also mostly prompted by the increasingly oppressive crowds. But what can I say? I enjoy the experience. Luckily I can always count on at least one of my sons coming with me.
Until this year. Both Ben and Sam are as close to being adults as anyone raised by me can be, and they have lives of their own. (I had to fib a bit about that in order to buy their tickets... Comicon screens for people who have a life; they just don’t let anyone in, you know). They both had other obligations, so even though the Comicon starts on Wednesday night, Sam won’t be able to come until Friday morning, and Ben won’t be there till Friday evening.
So for the first time, I’ll be registering on Wednesday night by myself. It’s going to seem strange… sort of like asking for a table for one at Chuck E. Cheese.
I lined up the hotel room well in advance. Rooms fill pretty quickly in San Diego for the Con and not just in the “spoken-for” sense. Comic fans are notoriously frugal when it comes to spending money toward anything other than their hobby. Consequently they view the term “double occupancy” as a dare. During the Comicon, a “no vacancy” sign has little to do with available rooms, and everything to do with available room.
I used Priceline to book my room, because Captain Kirk told me to. Priceline’s motto is “Name your own price,” which is a little inaccurate, but you can’t really blame them. What they’d gain in integrity, they’d lose in practicality if their slogan was “Name your own price; listen to our hysterical laughter; respond to our request that you either come up with a different room rate or change your destination to a third-world country; and ultimately finish the negotiation process with that same sense of satisfaction you feel as you walk away from a car dealership.”
Ultimately, I secured a room at a Holiday Inn near Mission Bay, which is a reasonable distance from the Convention Center, and I think my room’s high enough to be out of Shamu’s splash zone. Parking within walking distance to the Convention Center isn’t a problem, because there simply isn’t any… unless you’re foresighted enough to arrive at 2 am the first day and hire mercenaries to defend your spot for the remainder of the event. Fortunately, there are regularly-scheduled shuttle buses that run by outlying parking lots and are driven by individuals who have lost any reason to live.
So as of this writing, I’m preparing to leave in the morning. I’m packing up my stuff and… oh, who am I kidding? You all know that Sue is packing up my stuff so there’ll be more than just Diet Dr. Pepper and Good N’ Plenty boxes in my bag. I’m watching her now as she pins those “if lost, return to…” notes on all my shirts.
I’ll try to check in with you daily, so you won’t worry.
All material copyright 2009 Chuck Thornton