Thoughts After Attending My First Comic-Con

In April of 2022, I attended my first comic-con. Late to the party, it’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and this time just felt like the right time. I’ve been to plenty of zombie walks where attendees dress up and there are contests, vendors, and food. So, it wasn’t an entirely new experience, but it did get me thinking about the value that we place on fictional stories, material objects, and, ultimately, a sense of community. Here are some of my thoughts after attending my first comic-con.

Obsessed fans

Everywhere you look at a comic-con, different fictional stories, worlds, and characters are featured. They’re walking around in costumes, their images are being sold on merchandise, and their histories are being discussed among fans.

We tend to call this nerd culture, but it feels like an outdated term since nerd culture is now mainstream. This con I went to was considered one of the largest in my town’s history. I didn’t know this from experience, but as we were crammed together in this convention center, we heard people saying so, and the organizers later put out a Facebook post apologizing for the cramped quarters, the disorganized lines, and to anyone who didn’t have a good time.

The thing that saved us from the crowd turning dangerous, violent, or even deadly, is the idea that people who love these cons are peaceful, passive people. Just like when I go to zombie walks, people are polite, accommodating, and take their turns. We give each other directions, compliments, and space.

These events tend to draw in a certain type of person, and it gives off an almost utopian vibe of civility and community. And even if I heard some minor complaints, I didn’t personally see or hear anyone having a bad time. But I guess several people flocked to the Internet to file their complaints safely behind a screen.

I’m sure it irks some people to have so many people share your fandom, especially casual fans that may not take it as seriously as others or know as many facts. But at the same time, popularity is what has allowed the production of the steady stream of superhero, fantasy, and horror movies that we’ve gotten to enjoy over the years.

Meeting celebrities

Like I said, the lines to get autographs were way too long, and I didn’t want to spend my day in line. But I did get to attend two Q&A panels: Nick Castle and Christina Ricci. In fact, while the room filled up, I was surprised that we were able to get two seats in the room and that they left the back doors open for anyone from the hallway to listen in. It wasn’t an exclusive privilege to sit in that room, and some people came and went halfway through the session, and there were still stray, empty chairs scattered throughout the room.

Each Q&A lasted only 30 minutes. Yet, they took questions from all areas of the room. I was far enough back that it didn’t feel like an immersive experience, and I couldn’t think of anything to ask. I was happy enough to just listen to the celebrities talk.

Listening to them talk, I couldn’t imagine how much more awkward it was for celebrities to hear people talking about work they’d done like it was the most important thing in the world. On one hand, I’m sure it’s flattering. On the other, it’s probably a real eye opener into how deep people think about something they did decades ago.

I held my breath, hoping that no one embarrassed themselves. Some voices cracked. Others asked the same question that had been asked 10 minutes prior. And others were dressed head-to-toe in Star Wars or superhero gear and had to ask their questions through masks and face paint. But then, I realized that this was what the event was all about, and if the celebrities could go with it, so could I.

The merch

Part of the fun of fandom is collecting the junk that people try to sell you, whether they’re mass produced or homemade. My social media algorithm knows exactly what to try to sell me, and I do fall victim to the occasional dopamine rush of buying something I don’t need because it has a favorite character on the front of it.

As my display space decreases, I’m more practical about what type of stuff I tend to spend my money on. I have to have a place for it in mind before I pull out my cash or credit card. This all went out the window at the con. And though I still tend to kick myself for the stuff that I didn’t buy, I spent more than enough on the stuff that I did and have now made my available space even tighter.

There were over 600 vendors at this con. They sold everything from handmade items to what you’d now consider vintage. I saw toys that haven’t sat on a toy store shelf since the 1980’s, and I could have spent all day flipping through boxes of comic books or browsing pirated DVD’s containing my favorite cartoons.

One man was selling old magazine advertisements. Another had rows and rows of action figures still in their original packaging. The one I gravitated towards, though, was the vendor selling packs of bubblegum trading cards.  I only bought two packs: a set from the 1989 Batman movie and a pack of the Beetlejuice animated series. But I wish I had gone crazy and bought more.

I’m not a collector. I don’t believe in keeping anything in its original packaging unless it’s easier to display that way. So, as soon as I got home, I ripped those packages open and admired the cards and stickers inside.

The rush of buying stuff

Attending the con, though, brought back my desire to buy. It felt good to go home with bags of stuff, especially stuff that you can’t find just anywhere. And I definitely appreciate what I bought. But it was more about the rush of buying in the moment rather than the value that I put on them post-purchase.

Luckily, my fandom preferences are limited. I’m only interested in a fraction of the franchises that are featured at these cons. So, there was a lot I could easily pass up. Unfortunately, that made the desire to get the stuff I wanted super strong. Because it was so crowded, and there was so much to look at, I had to circle the tables several times before I started making purchases.

Seeing the toys and cartoons from my childhood especially brought back nostalgic feelings of seeing these items as a kid. They’re on every commercial, in every store, and on all of your food growing up.

I remember at one point while looking at Ghostbusters merchandise, my much younger sister said to me that she was never as into Ghostbusters as I was. I told her that’s probably because she didn’t watch the cartoon every Saturday morning, drink Hi-C Ecto Cooler for lunch, and play with the plastic proton packs that we had on top of watching the movies constantly.

Fandom is immersive, and it feeds into our consumerist culture. That’s not necessarily a bad thing as long as you don’t go overboard or put too much value on it.

I think about Steve Buscemi’s character, Seymour, in the movie Ghost World when he berates himself and his music obsession saying, “… you think it’s healthy to obsessively collect things? You can’t connect with other people, so you fill your life with stuff.”

A love of fiction

But you can’t put a price on feeling like a kid again. It was refreshing to revisit fictional characters and worlds that I hadn’t thought about in years. It awakened a part of my creativity and that desire to create something as beloved as the stuff I loved.

I used to shy away from allowing myself to be inspired by the things I loved. I didn’t want to seem like I was ripping anything off. But now I embrace it. It not only keeps me interested in what I’m writing, but it keeps the audience interested as well, whether they catch the reference or not.

Interested is interesting. And I had to admire even the stories and corresponding merchandise that people were selling. Because I know what it’s like to love fictional stories so much and to be inspired to create something based on them, if not replicate them to a T, if only for my own enjoyment.

These vendors and crafters have found a way to make a living, or at least a side business, sharing their favorite fandoms. And you have to admire that and how they resisted against the grind of adulthood and the bleak, mundane work/life routine that can take over your life if you let it. The con vendors helped to reignite my sense of play and wonder, and I’m so happy that they were able to transfer some of that power to me, if only for that one day.

Final thoughts on fandom

My number one philosophy in life is about balance. And that con taught me that you can splurge every once in a while and give into the commercialism. Because as an adult, our safe and healthy dopamine sources are few and far between. And it’s the nostalgia that makes us feel good. And that connectivity of sharing it with fellow strangers in person is good to see and experience. It reminds us to have fun, enjoy the things we love, and appreciate those who love them too.

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