Comic-Con 2012: A Survivor’s Record – Day 1

In which the author looks into the abyss...and the abyss tweets back.

Sam Wellerby Sam Weller

This chronicles the events of July 12th. Header image (via) Josh Jackson of Pastemagazine.

I awoke early, donning my My Little Pony Friendship is Magic T-Shirt.

Finally setting out into the world, I anticipated the thrill of purchasing rare swag. Especially the excitement of smashing a 4-year old’s face in as I trample him to buy a limited edition S.H.E.I.L.D. Helicarrier. “Nick Fury sent me” I’ll say.

iPhone battery already dead. This could mean trouble. I resort to pen and paper to take notes.

Touchdown. San Diego has transformed into a miasma of banner ads, “Defiance” marketing, and postcard hawkers. More on them later.

I pass someone who looks like Mick Foley. I almost shout out “Hey, Mick!” but pause upon seeing him p*ssing on a nearby building. It’s a homeless man. I hand him a “I Heart Videogames” pin i recieved from a young woman wearing booty shorts as a consolation prize. I press on.  

Before picking up my badge I see horrendous crowds of guileless people. They long ago sacrificed their humanity to be able to afford a ticket to this Ad Showcase. They are the prawn. They are the cattle.

I have a Professional badge. I don’t need no stinking money.

Scouring the floor I score aforementioned S.H.E.I.L.D. Helicarrier. Unfortunately, no children’s blood was spilled.

I see the booth for some TV show, Grimm. “I remember when this Con was about the Comics!” I scream. My voice is not heard. The nightmare officially begins.

Lunchtime. Apparently the memo was never received by the convention center kitchen staff. Carbs and fats are formed together into the shape of pizza and hot dogs. I become nauseated. Feverish. I grab a flyer from the Nickelodeon booth to dab my forehead.

I rest by a pillar to stop the room from spinning. It has been less than two hours on the show floor.

Receiving aide from a man in a Spider-man costume…or Spider-man himself? I am not sure…I empty out into the gaslamp district. Someone begins telling me about free Wi-Fi. More women in booty shorts. Flyers. So many flyers.

I hear a man shouting into a megaphone. I think he’s talking about god. “Sorry friend” I tell him “Look around you, what god would allow this?” I look into my swag bag. Gundam model kit, limited edition My Little Pony doll, free James Bond posters. Today was a good day.

I awake from my nap under a Adventure Time inflatable character in the Cartoon Network pavilion. I have p*ssed myself.

I retreat back to the convention floor to purchase new pants. I suppose a Superman bath robe will have to do. Suddenly garbed like the vagrants prowling for free posters I feel alive again. What have I become?

I finally pass Mick Foley. “Hey Mick!” I say excitedly. He turns, almost winks, then raises his middle finger in my general direction. The ultimate betrayal.



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