Current mood:	nostalgic
Current music:	"The Road Goes Ever On" by B. Baggins

Comic Con: And We're Back
I was going to do a comic tonight, but I figured first things first. I spent about twelve bucks developing these pictures. I might as well put them to good use.



This was our destination: the San Diego Convention Center, Home of the Twirtieenth-Something Annual Comic Convention. Not to give away any major secrets, but we made it.

These were the players:



Zachary Parker (also known as "ME") pictured here standing by the one and only lego rendition of Chewbacca. Yes, I have reached a new low.




My Lifelong* Friend, Matchbookhymnal, and her Husband**, Matchbookhymnal's husband

* Okay, not lifelong. But close.
** He's my friend now, too. Anyone who sees how I act on a plane and doesn't kill me is a true trooper (not storm, either).




The Infamous and somewhat Dubious Reed Bond of Welcome to Normal and Hppire of Pires Away.

Together we form a band whose powers when combined summon forth



Stan Lee?

But I get ahead of myself.

Since Reed and Hppire live in undisclosed states different than my own undisclosed state, it was only Match, Her Husband, and I on the plane to San Diego where we would meet up with the others. I don't know if you caught this before, but I get somewhat nervous on a plane. Actually, that's a gross injustice to myself. I get down right manic on a plane.

It's not that I'm afraid of flying either...more that I'm afraid of dying.

Since Matchbook's husband looks slightly Arabic, we toyed with the idea of calling him "Hassan" on the plane just to see if we could freak some people out. But we decided that the reprocussions of such an action, including the inevitable cavity search, wouldn't be worth the laughs. So, instead we all laughed at my pathetic whimpering.



Luckily for everyone involved, the plane did not fall from the sky, and we arrived in sunny downtown San Diego. After taking a raping on a shuttle fare to our hotel (which was seven miles from the Convention Center, but cheap), we prepared for the event of meeting face to face the people that we'd seen typing spastic instant messages across the void of cyberspace for almost a year now. Needless to say, it was horrifying.



Much later than we expected and after Hppire had been stranded at the airport for about eight hours by her internet buddy, we met the elusive pair. Surprisingly, they were (somewhat)lucid, and they in a couple of hours they were to find out the same about us. We all bedded down in anticipation of the most thrilling event of our lives*.

*Lord, I hope not.



The next four days were a blur (as some of these photographs reiterate). In order to read the convention center, every morning started with this:



That is, walking about 1/2 a mile to the Trolley stop.

Much to my surprise, the "Trolley" is more like a train, and not the variety that Cloris Leachman can be seen swinging drunkily from in only crappy sitcoms.
And not just any train: a clean, fast, and bum-free train that was dirt cheap.



So, our invigorating* walk was followed by about an hour of Trolley riding. Most of us were relieved to find that we were not transported to a magical make-believe land filled with crappy puppets and mangy cats, but rather downtown San Diego.

*Also known as exasperating, leading to much persperating



A Big Boat.

We had finally made it: The Mecca of Mouthbreathers, the Domain of Dorks, the Nirvana of Nerds.



After standing in a biggus line to get our passes, we were allowed to pass inside.



Countless Ads and Plugs for various companies, movies, and comics hung from the beams overhead.





In addition to the tons of pop culture references from the displays, countless amounts of people were dressed up as their favorite comic/movie character. (I'm putting captions on these, but true dorks should know who they are.)



Bender, the lovable beer-guzzling robot



Hyrule's highly-revered champion, Link



The Ever-Bun-ed Princess Leia



Ummm...the blue...errr...girl from Star Wars (Remember the good old days when "adding color to the cast" meant including Billy Dee?)



Chewbacca, Han Solo, and their surly landlord, Lolita



I don't know what these girls were supposed to be, but I took a picture of them for obvious reasons.



"Your Mom Goes to Comic-Con"



These weren't the Droids we were looking for.



The Wheezy Grieve (This Costume was Awesome.)



Leonard, Hunter of the Precious

In addition to the many freaks... I mean fans, there were many exciting special guests. Charlize Theron, Jack Black, and Natalie Portman were in attedance, but I was too busy seeing the really important guests like:



"Smells Like Teen Spirit, It Does"

But no, seriously, I did get to meet/see some pretty cool people.



I can't help loving Stan Lee. He's hilarious. And I think he's so humble and genuine. I mean, the guy came up with Spider-Man, the X-Men, Hulk, and the Fantastic Four. He should be wearing a cloak and carrying a scepter. Instead he settles for wearing a crown of thinning hair and employing a raspy smoker voice to casually answer questions from a sea of his biggest fans. God, he's cool.



Yeah, and I met Mike Mignola (Hellboy), too. I didn't really have anything to say to him. He didn't look like he was too happy about having to man his own booth, so I just asked to shake his hand and have my picture taken with him. Still cool, though.



And I stumbled upon Kenny Baker signing autographs. Apparently, they let him out of R2D2 long enough to make some dough off his Star Wars Stardom (?). If you're inside a rolling trashcan for the entire trilogy, are you really a star? Do I really want to pay $20 for you to sign a glossy of you? Nah. I think I'll just take your picture.



No, this isn't another SuperScooter commercial.

The coolest person I got to meet was undeniably Ray Bradbury. After watching a panel featuring Mr. Bradbury and Ray Harryhausen, I went out to use the bathroom only to find the author of Fahrenheit 451 being rolled toward me ( He's nine-hundred years old.) And For those of you who don't know, I'm an English teacher, so Ray Bradbury is akin to Elvis, while I'm like a hormonal teenage girl with a neck scarf.

Anyway, Ray Harryhausen's wheelchair stalled causing Mr. Bradbury to be stopped right next to me. I leaned down, and introduced myself, told him I was a high school English teacher, and thanked him for writing such great stories that my students love so much (Actually, that was kind of a lie. High Schoolers don't like reading anything.) He was delighted to hear it though, shook my hand, and said simply "Oh,God Bless You" before he was rolled away. I think I could have cried right then. It was so cool. I love that old man now.

On a side note, I got to use the restroom with Ray Harryhausen.

There were other people that I got to see that didn't lend themselves to photography as well as the others. I saw a dapper Clive Barker (author of Imajica), the ever-off-color Kevin Smith (Clerks), and Matt Groening (creator of the Simpsons). But none of them were quite as exciting as the ones I listed.



I also got to meet the guy who came up with Earthworm Jim. That was kinda cool. I bought his book and stammered something stupid like "I Used to Try to Draw Like You".



Plus, Sergio What's-His-Name, one of my old favorites from MAD Magazine was also there.



A Random Super Couple We Met on the Trolley

In addition, there were TONS of other less-famous (but none-the-less interesting) people got to meet.

I met the gentleman who runs Brain Wrap Comics, Scott Kurtz of PVP, and a real swell guy, Bob who writes a little strip you might have read of called Elsie Hooper.



But nevertheless, in the midst of all this glitz and glamour we did not forget our purpose: Pimp the Crap out of Flatwood. The whole time we were wading through the teeming crowds of fellow dorks, I was bearing a shameless sign on my back begging folks to ask me for a free sample of my comic. We did give away quite a few, and I was very satisfied with the amount of publicity we were able to drum up between the flyers and the Flatwood T-shirts. Some people even said that they had heard of us. Weird. But, it was great.

Next year, perhaps we can get a booth.

But it probably won't be necessary.I've already made arrangements to see that Flatwood is the number one online comic by this time in 2006.



Of course, I did have to sell my soul. Sacrifices must be made, though.



By the end of the convention, I think we were all pretty tired. Those long days, long trolley rides, and endless treks back and forth to the hotel took their toll. But we all agreed that we did have fun, though we may never eat at Wendy's again.



Our one great adventure came on our last night in San Diego. We were riding our trolley home and got off to make a transfer to a different trolley line, only to find that it was so late, the line we needed was no longer running.



Being stranded a mile from your hotel in a strange city at midnight is a slightly unnerving experience. Our first stupid idea was to walk along the trolley tracks to our stop. Luckily, some of the other people who were stranded with us told us about certain stabbing hobos that liked to ambush people walking along the tracks at night. We broke down and called a cab. Good story, huh?



Finally, the time came for us to part ways. The Trip was over. Comic Con had ceased. We had walked our last mile. Reed and Hppire said goodbye. We looked back on the setting sun of San Diego for the last time...or until next year? *shrug*



or until next year? Who Knows.

It was a great trip and one we all agreed was worth the money. We got to meet some people that we had known face to face, swap ideas with our fellow webcomickers, and listen to wisdom from the great cartoonists of our time. It was sad to leave such a great place and such a good time. But I've got plenty of Livin', Laughin', and Flatwoodin' waiting for me back here at home...among other things...



The Object of my Twitterpation (as dubbed by Hppire)