Fan Conventions: How Deep does the Rabbit Hole Go?

It’s difficult to express in words just how much fun a fan convention is if you’ve never experienced one. This weekend was my first “official” con.

Cons are basically the live-action version of YouTube rabbit holes.

Want to sit in on a panel discussion about UFOs and cryptids? Room 12, across the hall. Argue about Star Wars vs. Star Trek? Room 8 at 5:30, bruh.

We sat in on panels about the proper use of blasters vs. swords in LARP sessions and the future of the Disney theme parks. 

Are you worried about Grogu’s college years? “The Book of Mandalorian” panel was full of people speculating and biting their nails.

There was literally something for everyone. There were gaming rooms, both tabletop and video. Voice-acting classes. Crafting tables for the kids. Classes on self-publishing. Improv classes for RPGs. How to start a Podcast.

One room had a spaceship crew simulator with a dude dressed as a Federation admiral in command.

The vendor hall was full of excellent memorabilia and hand-made crafts. I could have spent a lottery’s worth of winnings and still come out wanting. 

One hall had a “what’s under his kilt” competition that required an adult ID. Amanda started to go in, but I reminded her that Grogu’s fate was still hanging in the balance and demanded discussion.  These are serious times, you know.

All-in-all, we were awake for 24 hours straight, which I didn’t think was even possible anymore. And were never bored once. Being surrounded by fans of all ages decked out in their cosplay finery, felt like being among friends.

Adventures in Civic Sanitation

So there I was, lugging an overloaded trash bag roughly the mass of a collapsed neutron star, both hands desperately clasped around the plastic handles in an attempt to maintain the bag's structural integrity. Amanda, who foresaw my immediate predicament, was helpfully trying to open the side door of the dumpster, to no avail.

The door was stuck.

I'm grunting and groaning, having seen the inside of approximately zero gyms during my decades of mortal existence. After all, don't they make machines for this sort of thing?

(Mental note. I really need to get some kind of machine for this sort of thing.)

Anywho, this dude shows up out of nowhere, throws open the top of the dumpster, and with one hand effortlessly tosses the disposable pillar of creation up and over the rim. Didn't even so much as grunt, the bastard.

The moral of the story is, I'm kind of smart and funny sometimes.