Greetings, Banana Splits!
There comes a time in every child’s life when they must put away childish things and become an adult…
…or they can say “To Hell with that” and continue to have fun by going to conventions like Nekocon.
Guess which one I did this past weekend?
To be fair, I was there in an official capacity, as my partner-in-crime Danny Valentini and I were invited to the convention again this year to be guests. Supposedly, we do this web comic together called “The Draconia Chronicles” that grows in popularity every year. Now, I would just chalk this up to rumor for now, because everyone knows that there are no such things as web comics. That’s just a story parents tell their children at night to scare them so that they won’t grow up to get online degrees.
You should know the drill by now – I do a quick recap of my weekend at a convention, you skim over it feeling unfulfilled, then we both reluctantly agree that we need to see other people as we give back all the items we borrowed or gave to each other.
I’m still waiting to get back my copy of the “The White Album.”
As con Fridays go, this year’s Neko offered pretty much the standard fare – I show up at the convention center about two hours before the Opening Ceremonies. Heading up to the “Con-Ops” room, I procure my Guest badge. After some spirited conversation about topics I have no recollection of discussing, I make a dotted bee-line for our table in the Artists Alley. I say dotted because one can never just go to where they are going at a convention. Invariably, there will be many stops and restarts as you run into old friends for a quick chat, pose for pictures, stop to take pictures, notice something shiny, pause to ponder the secrets of the universe, stop because you’re chewing gum, or hesitate because the all-powerful con gods sent a messenger to you with a gift consisting of this confection called “Pocky”. And no, I don’t mean the owner of Spwug.
As I survey the landscape of the cavernous region known as the Artists Alley, I catch up with more fellow AA (not Alcoholics Anonymous) commoners as I wait for my cohort to arrive. I also wait for time to slowly transport me into the future, for that is where the Opening Ceremonies await me.
When the Hour of Trying to Fool People Into Thinking You Are Someone Important in Front of a Medium-Sized Crowd is finally at hand, my recently arrived partner-in-crime and I make our way into the even more cavernous region where the Ceremonies are to take place. After a series of horrible attempts at humor that are the reason my parents gave me up for adoption, Danny and I – fully convinced that no one knew who the heck we were – remove ourselves and head back over to “Con-Ops”, where we trade our silly old Guest badges for shinier and cooler “Neko Bazaar” badges. With renewed vigor, we return to the first cavernous area of which I had already mentioned previously. From there, we set up our table, and begin the attempt to peddle our wares for the rest of the evening. And that, little Christopher, is how babies are born.
Saturday finds us arriving early, long before noon’s rising sun can greet us. We have a panel to host and candy tied to strings so that we can lure entice the con masses to our little panel room. We are able to capture accrue a respectable number of individuals despite our outlandish buffoonery on display. In fact, I do believe that a couple of them even stop screaming long enough to ask us questions about our web comic. I call that a success. Then again, I call not getting maced in the face when I ask a woman the time a success.
From there, we return to our temporary abode in the Artists Alley for more shilling, more debauchery, more talky-talky…blah blah blah… You’re already asleep, so we’ll skip ahead…
Two in the afternoon! We have another panel! But our princess is in another castle! Dejected from finding yet another one of those stupid Toadstool weirdoes (where do they all come from? Do they multiply like rabbits?), we make our way back to the same room our last panel was in. In a strange case of déjà vu, the room looks exactly the same as the last time we were in it. In fact, maybe this really is the first time we are in it, and the first time really wasn’t the first time, but instead a strange message from the future telling us what lie in store for our fates.
Nope, same room, different panel.
This time we are joined by real artists and writers as we try our best to sound like we know as much as they do about making web comics. I think we have them fooled right up to the point where I mention something about the right amount of tension needed on a loom when interweaving the threads of a web comic. I’m not sure where the audience got the pitch forks and torches, but it makes for an exciting conclusion to what I think was a successful panel.
As my counterpart and I make our escape back to the Caverns of AA, we easily slip back into our respective roles – he’s the DJ and I’m the rapper. Sales seem to be going well on our new “Men of the Quadratic Equation” calendar, as well as a few other items we have somehow managed to fool the commonfolk into believing have magical powers – mainly some Shamwow!s, as well as a few pounds of Mighty Putty. Throughout the afternoon and evening we get several con-goers who stop by claiming to be fans of our web comic. But, I know the truth. After being visited by them as often as I am, you tend to recognize evil spirits when they show up to haunt you and ask you for favors.
It is at this point that I also have a vision that my wife is in an 80s glam-pop band. I shiver from the delusion, then down a couple burgers that are really cookies. My life is strange.
The greatest highlight of Saturday has to be in the evening when we go to dinner. It isn’t often when an evil spirit actually tries to get you drunk so that they can take advantage of you. Joke’s on him, though. I would have said yes sober.
Sunday seems to be a blur. No, I mean every Sunday seems to be a blur. I think my brain just hates living in my cranial cavity so much that it just decides to shut down every seventh day as a middle finger to me and my ancestors. I can’t fathom why. I mean, it isn’t my fault that the Waltons aren’t real.
Now that I think about it, I do seem to recall some events took place on Neko’s Day of Sun. We have a final panel wherein we are usurped by dark forces who yank the proverbial rug out from under us by yanking the actual rug out from under us. I think we still manage to do a fairly adequate job of teaching the wailing masses how not to create or develop characters. At least, I pray to Bill Cosby that we did.
A few more hours of trying to prove to the con folk that we are not wax statues and the con is officially over. As my main squeeze who is not my wife but is really the artist who draws the web comic I scribble words for and I break down and cry our set-up at the table in the AA Caverns, we say our goodbyes to a few of the fellow artists who were crazy enough to talk to us. We make our way to the bar in the hotel that is across the way from the convention center. I remark as we head over that a way looks an awful lot like grass and asphalt. Once inside the bar, a friend buys me an apple pie – except that this pie is really liquid and I have to drink it instead of eat it. But hey, in today’s economy everyone has to make sacrifices – even our American icons. I heard that baseball is currently just gardening in order to save money.
With the evening now upon us, we make our way to Olive Garden. There, a free meal awaits all of us who were sneaky enough to convince the staff that we were Guests Neko Bazaar attendees. But first we stand outside the restaurant to play a game called “Parking Lot-to”. The object of the game is to stand out in the parking lot until the number of people in your party matches the number called. Our group makes it to the bonus round, where we win some fabulous prizes – including our meals, as well as a copy of the home game. I can’t speak for those who are still in the parking lot after we are seated, though I’m told that “manicotti formaggio” is Italian for “convention stragglers”.
I’m glad I ordered the chicken alfredo.
The Don would like to give his heartfelt thanks to everyone at Nekocon for their gracious generosity and hopes to be invited back next year!
