DAY ONE
THURSDAY, JULY 23, 2009
The Con’s doors open at 9:30 every morning (or earlier, depending on the
pressure of all the noses pressed up against the windows), so I had to
make sure we were up by somewhere between 7 and 7:30 so we could shower,
dress, pack up the portable bedding so the maid could navigate the room,
get some breakfast, and make our way to the Convention Center.
A little after rising, I got a call from my friend Alan, who manages to
be at the Con every year at least one day out of the four. He drove down
early from Riverside so he could score parking, and wanted to let me
know he was there and that the streets of downtown San Diego were
already filled with more people than a battle scene from Lord Of The
Rings, and very few of them were computer-generated. I told him we’d
call him when we got there and then arrange to meet. Before cell phones,
this kind of rendezvous would have involved meticulous scheduling,
crackerjack logistics and a total resignation to failure.
My two sons are not what you would call morning people… left to their
own devices, they’ll sleep till 10 or 11 o’clock in the morning. It’s no
problem getting them up earlier than that, but I can’t expect much in
the way of conversation beyond some muttering about the caliber of my
parenting. With my son Sam, this is especially ironic because Sam loves
breakfast. Sam is a guy who believes that breakfast is the most
important meal of the day, probably because it’s the first one of three.
I won’t say that we would have skipped breakfast if Sam weren’t with us,
but it was his influence that kept us from making a morning meal out of
a couple of Paydays washed down with Diet Dr. Pepper.
This morning we chose a fifties-style diner called Beach-N-Diner in
downtown Coronado. When we parked at the curb out front, Sam asked me to
please not wear the lanyard with my Comic-Con badge into the diner. How
else were they going to know we were going to the Con? I asked. He gave
me early-morning-stare # 35, which translates into “Don’t be obtuse.” I
don’t think Sam’s embarrassed about going to the Con; I think he’s just
embarrassed to be associated with a guy who has no problem being
perceived as a yokel by the locals.
At any rate, I honored his wishes and left my lanyard in the car, and we
had a nice, albeit quiet, breakfast. At least until I overheard a
conversation between the manager of the diner and one of the waitresses,
discussing whether they were going to see any weirdoes over the course
of the Comic-Con. I raised my hand and let them know we were weirdoes,
and we had a nice conversation about the Con and the kind of business it
generates, and how much fun we have. I think I embarrassed Sam, but I
don’t know how… I left my lanyard in the car, for Pete’s sake.
All material copyright 2009 Chuck Thornton