Just a very quick post, alas. Day 1 feels like day 1000. Everyone has 1000 yard stares, dry mouth and blisters. And dread, numbing, seeping dread.
We’ll try to roundup some of the news emanating from the show, but the big news is that Preview Night and Thursday are now just as crowded as Friday used to be.
There doesn’t seem to be huge amounts of news that anyone is talking about AT the show. It’s all meeting and pacting and solidifying the pacting. The main booths are frantically busy giving away free stuff, and gangs of people descend every time something is given out, like piranhas around a scrap of flesh.
Seriously, everyone is so preoccupied with survival that everything else seems secondary! When just getting a cup of coffee means a half hour minimum wait, the misery factor begins to creep towards too much.
We spent the day just trying to survive, buffeted from place to place. It started with a nice hearty breakfast perhaps the only thing to keep us from the abyss. From there it was a series of missed meetings, close encounters and milling around. At one time we ran into an old timer from the show we first went to in 1984 and enjoyhed a conversation about a Rocketeer cookei jar. It was truly a pictish moment.
Swapping survival strategies is a popular pastime, with the main controversy being whether it;s better to have no agenda or a tight agenda. We favor the latter, and our buddy John Green agreed. “When you just wander around with no purpose, it turns into an end of the world scenario, and you gradually succumb to feelings of depression and hopelessness.”
With Friday now sold out– and the con capacity said to be 130,000– the trope “Wait until Saturday!” is now meaningless. Friday is the new Saturday, and every day may be Saturdaty from here out.
Yup, it was a big steaming slice of hell on a stick.
“I’m already tired of Comic-Con,” said Michael Uman, the owner of a design shop in New York City. “Between the meetings, the drinking and the sensory overload … ”
For some exhibitors, getting here is half the hassle.
“Once you get here, it’s fine,” said Douglas Paszkiewicz, Milwaukee-based author and cartoonist of the “Arsenic Lullaby” comic books. “But the stress of getting here, of getting all of your stuff here, of making sure your help gets here when you get here, setting up all your stuff – and then recovering to talk to 100,000 people … ”
Not to mention having to pull this off in such punishing surroundings.