It would probably be more appropriate for me to state that I lost my convention virginity, altogether. I have never been to a comic convention, and for a good reason: I cannot stand geek stereotypes. I am just as much of a geek as the next person, however I do not find myself exuding the same colorful and strange qualities. I’m not very chipper, I have an overwhelming sense of shame, and I couldn’t care any less about internet memes or superheroes.
To me, gaming, comic books, or anything that could be considered remotely “geeky” are hobbies, and nothing more. However, there are plenty of individuals who consider these as lifestyles, more than anything. While there is nothing wrong with that and while I do admire such shameless fun and recreation, I find that such idiosyncrasies brand the image of the types of people who would consider such activities as simple hobbies. I love gaming, and I even like a comic book from time to time, however it is difficult to be taken seriously from non-gamers when the general image of a gamer is still, well, I’m sure I don’t have to describe that anyone on here.
For these reasons, I try my best to distance myself from the hardcore scene that finds it gratifying to learn Tolkien’s Elvish or identify more with their level 80 mage than with their level 1 self. With that said, I have never had the desire to go to a comic convention. I was almost certain that I would see more of my petty dislikes than anything I would enjoy. So, what drove me to actually go, you ask? Well, the first would be my girlfriend; love makes you do crazy things, even brave the musty trenches of WonderCon. The second reason was because of what I hoped would happen and what actually did: I had a good time.
The beginning of my journey was as expected: uncomfortable. The ocean of cheap costumes and unkempt comic enthusiasts left me uneasy, and the unappealing funk that exuded from the vast crowd almost knocked me on my ass. I was basically led around by my girlfriend like a vigilant dog in an unknown area, with my brow raised, alert, awaiting whatever dangers could be lurking around the next corner. It’s a bit emasculating when your 5’4” girlfriend is effortlessly wading through a crowd of harmless geeks, while you’re trailing behind trying to stave off a panic attack.
Eventually, the discomfort of consistently rubbing against others was masked by my interest in my surroundings. It seemed like a geek in search of a particular trinket, accessory, printed shirt, poster, or useless piece of schwag was likely to find it there. I found myself overwhelmed by an endless variety of merchandise. I also found myself, on more than one occasion, tempted to buy things on the spot. This desire left, however, once I paid $22 for a shirt with a Mandelorian symbol on the front. I’m a moron.
We eventually made our way past the “dealer’s room” and into the “artist alley”. Here, there was a large variety of artists who freely sold pieces of their work. While very little of it appealed to me, I found it intriguing that a convention such as that could be a lucrative opportunity for aspiring artists. It seemed like a fantastic and obvious idea. While there was plenty to look at, the one thing that caught my eye actually almost made me shit myself.
I spotted Tim Schafer standing but a few feet away from me, browsing the artwork. I let out an audible gasp and explained to my girlfriend why my balls had just receded into my stomach. She urged me to say hello, but, like a total pansy, I balked at the idea with the assumption that I wouldn’t know what to say. Then I saw it: a noticeably determined look in her eyes. I knew what she was going to do. I instantly wrapped my arms around her and attempted to drag her away, but, before I knew it, she was waving with both hands and giddily shouting, “Hello, Tim Schafer!”
With a hint of surprise and shock in his voice, Schafer smiled and said hello. My girlfriend continued to speak on my behalf, stating how big of a fan I was, all while I had my arms around her. He merely smiled, giggled uncomfortably, and walked away. Any normal person would be embarrassed enough to rethink the purpose of living, however I could only help thinking one thing, “I just saw Tim Schafer and made a complete ass of myself. Cool!” At that point, I loosened up a bit and began to freely enjoy everything that WonderCon had to offer.
By the end of the day, I wound up having a good time. While the vast number of cheap costumes and odd caricatures was still a bit peculiar to me, there were a select few costumes that were legitimate enough to merit a double take. There were even a few recognizable characters that got me giggling delightfully, due to the fact that someone actually bothered to dress up as them specifically. After learning to enjoy such things, along with seeing several friends and familiar faces there, I realized that that place and everyone in it weren’t so bad, after all.
Apparently, Lord Revan excites me so much that I fondle myself without realizing it.
My girlfriend made a clever statement that did a fine job of explaining my feelings towards stereotypical geeks and the overbearing exuberance of geek culture, “They’re like your dysfunctional family that you don’t like to associate with.” She was completely right and gave me a new perspective on everything.
Whether or not I like it, these geeks are who I am, for the most part. They find an immeasurable amount of joy in things relatively unattainable. They find a significant amount of gratification in frivolous escapism and fantasy. And, like a dysfunctional family, they take it to a shameless and almost humiliating extreme. I find myself embarrassed by the fact that people can and do associate me with them, simply because we’re related in these small ways. I attempt to distance myself from the lot, however, like any other family reunion, I find myself enjoying their company by the end of the day. Like a family reunion, after enough laughter is had and once enough smiles are shared, I forget about our obvious dissimilarities and remember the fact that we have a lot more in common than I would like to admit.
Once my girlfriend and I parted ways, I returned to the convention for some video footage and a few more photos. With the exception of an even larger crowd, and even though I bumped into a red power ranger that responded with a playful karate stance – I had to resist punching him in the face – it’s safe to say that my overall experience was quite great. I think I will return to WonderCon next year. Now that I know what to expect from these dysfunctional reunions, perhaps it won’t take so long for me to loosen up and enjoy the company.
