Brett Bates' post about the lines at PAX East got me thinking about my own experiences in the convention's many queues.

PAX is, in general, a uniquely positive experience; people say "Excuse me" when they bump into you, they smile a bit more than you would expect, and sometimes they even randomly hand you glow bracelets. But the fact remains that PAX is a convention, involving people, and where there are people there is annoyance. This is just one of those laws that govern social interaction of any kind.

While in most cases you are free to just walk away from the annoying people, sometimes you meet them in line for a panel or demo and you just can't leave. Here are a few people with whom you don't want to spend any significant amount of line time.

The Perfectionist

An optimist says the glass is half full. A pessimist says the glass is half empty. The Perfectionist says that there's a chip in the glass, the water looks a little cloudy, and that this proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that this entire glass-water system is totally fucked.

At PAX, the Perfectionist didn't approve of how the lines were arranged and pointed out every typo on the Get In Line Games screen. He made his superior powers of observation known to all who would listen, and many who wouldn't, and offered nothing constructive in response.

The Perfectionist doesn't strive for perfection; he only wants to see it. And were you to slap him in his stupid face, he'd probably tell you that you should have put more shoulder into it.

The Hater

Most people are really happy to be at PAX, but the Hater thinks that those people are assholes. And he'll say it, too...as soon as they can't hear him. When discussing such non-sentient topics as line length and the price of soda, however, all within range shall feel his displeasure. That demo sucks, this food is terrible (and in such small portions), and that Enforcer is a Nazi douche.

Since everything at PAX seems designed specifically to ruin the Hater's day, it's a wonder he bothered to show up at all. You'd think he's there against his will, like his journey through the convention is just one elaborate trap after another, planned to the last detail by the Jigsaw Killer.

"Hello, nerd. I want to play a game. The rules are these: take a few days off of work to spend a weekend at a convention filled with things you like. There will be other people at this convention, too. They will be nice. Make your way through the Expo Hall, playing as many games and getting as much free stuff as you can, and ask yourself: is this weekend about having fun with your community, or is it all about you? Make your choice."

The Storyteller

The Storyteller has something very important that he wants to tell you, about something he did. Well, not him, exactly, but any of his various Avatars. He could be a World of Warcraft guy, or a Modern Warfare 2 guy, or even a Pokémon guy -- the point is, if he pretended to do it in a game, he's going to tell you about it like it happened. His stories usually follow this formula:

"This one time, while I was playing [game title], I totally [poorly-described feat]. It was [adjective]."

Addressing the Storyteller directly:

I can't fault you for your enthusiasm, and we are at a game convention. But we're going to be in this line for a while, and odds are good we'll have to sit next to each other during the panel. My point is that we should get along. So open up with what happened on your raid last week if you must, but then let's try to steer this towards a conversation. Or at least tell some stories that take place in the real, actual outdoors. Chris Davidson told me that he once battled a Toll Ninja, and even if he made that shit up, at least he was the main character.

The Flying Pig

The Flying Pig employs the following logic:

P1: I am in a line.

P2: This line is boring.

C1: Therefore, I am bored.  (P1, P2)

P3: There are other people in this line.

C2: Therefore, the other people in this line must be bored. (C1, P3)

His ultimate conclusion, based on nothing in particular, is that it is his job to keep the line from being boring. At PAX East, he achieved this by randomly applauding nothing in particular or yelling, "Jaaaaasooooooooon."

Unlike the other people described above, you did not have to be next to (or even in line with) the Flying Pig for him to annoy you, which makes him by far the most effective and disruptive murderer of in-line sanity.

The Reporter

The Reporter is perhaps the most insidious member of this collection, because he works slowly and invisibly, and will not annoy you until long after you have left the line.

The Reporter stands quietly, observing those around him. You might notice him take out a small notebook, possibly with an owl on it, and begin scribbling. He is not writing poetry in there; he is taking notes. And at some point in the not-too-distant future, he will compile these notes into an article, and maybe he will post it on the Internet. And lo, the Internet will know how you have displeased him, and this will show you.

At his heart, the Reporter loves PAX, but has very bad interpersonal skills. It is best to avoid him above all of these others, because he is as snarky as he is socially awkward.