Letters From The Loft
Stuff From The Desk Of Chuck Thornton
DAY ONE - PAGE 2
We left at about 9:00 to allow some time to get to the pre-arranged parking area (I had entered the coordinates in my GPS unit the day before). I wasn't able to book the same ground-zero parking lot that we used the day before, but for the remainder of the Con, I had reserved parking at a structure just one block south of the Convention Center, which was still the Admiral's Club as far as I was concerned. So I wasn't worried about getting lost, but 9:00 seemed a reasonable time to leave to allow for traffic.
Just a couple of minutes after we got on the road, I got a call from my friend Alan. He usually makes a one-day visit to the Con every year, so we regularly meet up with him once we know he's there. He let us know that he had arrived, parked his car in an outlying lot, set up base camp, and had made the hike to the Convention Center (shedding his backpack about halfway there). We told him we'd give him a call and connect once we were actually on the premises, which promised to be soon. We told him to say hi to the rest of the little people without reserved parking.
After a little while, it was clear that the GPS unit was doing its job and setting in the most direct course to the parking structure. Unfortunately, that route would take us through the downtown area and eventually to the stretch of Harbor Drive that runs directly in front of the Convention Center. During CCI, the traffic movement on these streets has to be detected via time-lapse photography... the area directly in front of the Convention Center resembles the street scenes in Independence Day just before (and, come to think of it, just after) the alien ships start saying hello. I didn't want to get involved with that, so I decided to circle around the area and approach it from the south, so as to encounter the parking structure before hitting the problem areas. It was a bit of a challenge... San Diego is riddled with one-way streets that never seem to be going your way, and the GPS unit started shouting "RECALCULATING" every ten seconds. It eventually switched to "RE-EVALUATING OPERATOR SANITY", but by that time we were close enough to the parking structure to eyeball it. It still took us some time to actually gain entrance, since we had to make a u-turn through an intersection where right-of-way was a matter of ongoing negotiation.
But once there, the pre-arranged parking arrangement again worked like a charm; I had apprehensions that it might be overbooked, but even with our delayed arrival, we were able to find a parking space somewhere in the upper levels of the structure where the air was thin, but still breathable. Before taking the elevator down, I took a picture of the south end of the convention center:
The building to the left of those tents contains the massive Hall H, the 6700-seat venue where most of the big Hollywood panels are held. The line for Hall H starts forming very early because once you make it in there, you can camp out for the rest of the day... if you try to get in later in the afternoon, there's no guarantee there'll be a seat. You have to hand it to CCI; each year they try new methods to deal with the ever-increasing flow of humanity. In previous years, the line to Hall H simply snaked out and down the south side of the building (between the building and those pointy concrete things), then around the entire outside perimeter of the Convention Center and eventually out to sea. Eventually, they tightened things up by zig-zagging the line, Disneyland-style, throughout the grassy area that you see under the tents...before continuing it around the building and out to sea. This year it was much the same, but it was the first year they added the tents. It's a nice touch, providing shade for the folks in line, and adding a festive atmosphere to a highly-compressed gathering of sweaty comic-book fans. Maybe next year they'll add a carousel and Ferris wheel.
After crossing the street, we entered the above picture from the left-hand side, using the walkway between the building and those concrete pointy things (what ARE those things, anyway?). As we got closer to the front corner of the building, our path was being crossed by the Hall H line, which was now being allowed to enter, and we spent some time watching the unfortunate individual who had the job of playing traffic cop for the opposing perpendicular forces. He had a cap, white gloves, and a whistle, an outfit I personally find intimidating, but didn't seem to swing much weight with most of the crowd. He was faring only slightly better than a crossing guard in Pamplona during the running of the bulls.