Comic-Con Dreams

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it explicitly here so far, but we’re going off to the San Diego Comic-Con next week, under the kind auspices of Mary who is putting us up at her place.

I have been to the Con since 2004, according to the last badge I have for it.  That was the year of The Leap Before You Look Great Comic-Con Adventure with Doyce.  Seems like yesterday in many ways (and not in many others).

Mary has been ominously warning that a little difference of six years has meant further exponential growth of the Con, and has painted visions of Soylent Green-style masses of humanity.  Which, given how crowded it was last time is — daunting.

Still, I’m looking forward to it.

According to the oldest badge I have (which I’ll be carrying along with me, just to show off), my first SDCC was in 1988, back when it was the San Diego Comic-Con (not Comic-Con International: San Diego, or whatever the official pompous title is these days — though everyone still abbreviates it SDCC).  Back then, it was in the much smaller Golden Hall, a block away or so from Horton Plaza.  Now, of course, it’s in the mammoth San Diego Convention Center, spilling out into neighboring hotels.  (It’s contractually tied to the Convention Center until 2012; I hear sad rumors that Anaheim is pushing hard to steal the show.)

Unlike back in the stone ages, when it was mostly about comics (and the occasional brave movie producer trying to gin up some publicity for their movie or TV show — we sat in on panels for Tim Burton’s Batman and for the TV series The Flash — SDCC is now about all the media.  There are panels for movies, TV, books, MMOs — oh, and, yeah, a lot of comic stuff, still, but only, say, half of what’s there.

After merely attending a year or two, I eventually signed up to volunteer my services — which was fun, frustrating, and rewarding.  I learned a lot of stuff about crowd control (mutter-mutter-Image-mutter).  I also got to man the registration booth a number of times, which gave me a chance to meet, for example, Jack Kirby himself.

The Con is a stunning 41 years old this year.  I still have my 20 year anniversary pin, which I’ll be wearing.  Indeed, the question of what to wear is a key one for the Con.  It’s certainly a place where one can wear maximal geekwear — though I might focus on the variety of Con volunteer t-shirts I still possess (assuming they fit).

I might have to give blood again.

Panel-wise, there’s plenty I’m penciling in to see — comic-related, TV-related, movie-related.  I haven’t started making the Hard Decisions yet (though there’s at least one time slot where there are four panels I really want to see, all running at the same time).

Anticipate much Tweeting. And pictures. And frantic searches for someplace to recharge my phone.

It’s just Margie and me down there for starters, along with Mary, and (at some point) Michelle.  No idea how the clustering will work, how Margie’s ankle will hold up, etc. — though the fact that we all have cell phones these days will make coordination a lot easier than it was way back when.  Jim and Ginger will be bringing down Kitten on Saturday, and she’ll be attending with us on Sunday, which is sort of the Kids Day at the Con (and there are at least a couple of panels I know she’ll want to attend).

And from there the three of us will fly home on Monday. Which will end the summer vacation travel.

Should be fun.