Living in the real world is tough cannolis. Particularly if (like me) you were raised looking longingly at the world through a filter of T.H. White and Orson Scott Card. While everyone else was out getting first kisses and going to Audio Adrenaline concerts with the youth group, I was changing, diapers, sewing long skirts out of fabric plastered with giant cherries and getting lost in every Star Wars fan book I could get a hold of (no shame!).
Thus, it was with enormous awe and gravity that I finally procured Willy Wonka’s golden tickets and got to go to ComicCon for the first time last year. It would be a fateful homecoming. I would finally be among the fellow outcasts of society, the type of people who can answer the question “What is Bilbo Baggin’s mother's name” instantly and with a straight face. Turns out though, ComicCon is so huge and popular that it’s more like specialists in the medical field. I only speak maybe two, three dialects of nerd, and there are at least seventy-seven...not counting Dr. Who which has at least three separate dialects within the dialect. Also, the sheer awesomeness is a little overwhelming. I mean, where else can you go and see Darth Vader and Sherlock Holmes standoff? Especially when Darth Vader really is 6’ 8” and Sherlock is Benedict Cumberbatch’s doppelganger. Last year there were zombies everywhere...almost tied with the number of naked Cersei’s with their Septa Unellas and shame bells. (any bets one what the popular GOT costume will be this year?)
I go again this Saturday and I can’t wait. In some ways it's like those 4th of July parades as a kid where they throw out free candy...instead at ComicCon they throw out free books! And comics! ...and pretty much everything in between! Besides meeting all of my favorite authors, I’m pretty sure nothing can top last year of getting to meet Jamie Fraser and Jonathan Randall right before tap dancing as an X-man in Xavier’s school of dance...but hey, I’m willing to take whatever comes my way. I’m just thrilled I get to go again.