SAN DIEGO — That’s right, this week’s column is coming to you with a dateline. As you read this (unless for some strange reason it takes you a week to pick up the latest copy of The Diamondback) I’ll be relaxing in sunny Southern California.
What better time for vacation than now, the doldrums of summer? There are no holidays or any other days of importance from the 4th of July until Labor Day. If you’re smart, you’ve been working at a summer job since the day after you moved off the campus. If you’re the average college student, you’ve been sitting around eating Cheez-Its and watching West Wing reruns on Bravo, but that’s a subject for another column.
Though vacations in and of themselves serve the glorious purpose of providing a break from the grind of the “real world,” destinations are often chosen for particular reasons. Be it going to Las Vegas to gamble, Tokyo to sing in karaoke bars, or Paris to annoy the French, there is a motive for each site visited. If you’re reading this, you probably can’t afford to throw a dart at a map and let that decide where you travel.
I bring up motivations for traveling because I have a somewhat embarrassing confession to make (or rather, I have a somewhat embarrassing reason that my editors are forcing me to confess). My travels to San Diego this week quite happily and consciously coincide with Comic-Con International: San Diego.
Referred to by my friends in the past few days as a “geek convention” and “dork Mecca,” the Comic-Con is pretty much all of those things. I plead innocent when it comes to planning summer vacation around it; I have relatives in the suburbs of San Diego, including a cousin five years younger than I, and our parents see this as a good way for the two of us to bond. This will be my fourth year in a row attending the convention. The first two years the Comic-Con just happened to correspond to previously scheduled family vacations (I swear!), and apparently now it’s a tradition for me to visit every July to celebrate at the Nerdiest Event on Earth.
But enough digression from me. Let’s talk about the real issue at hand: how comic book nerds are the goofiest people on Earth. You can go ahead and include me in that number, but the nerds I’m talking about are on a whole different level. I’ve seen grown Caucasian men dressed up as teenaged Japanese boys, overweight women spilling (literally) out of costumes intended for women half their size, and Lou Ferrigno. Not somebody dressed up as the Hulk, mind you, but the muscle-bound actor himself in front of me in line at the food court. He prefers mustard on his hot dogs; hold the ketchup and relish.
The official website for the Comic-Con claims that last year 87,000 people attended the convention with even more expected to show up this year. I knew the show was a big deal, but I couldn’t quite comprehend that level of interest. Hollywood stars drive down I-5 to promote their new movies. Apparently Sarah Michelle Gellar of Buffy fame was a fan favorite. Who could have guessed that one?
The gender ratio at the Comic-Con is more lopsided than that of Nathan’s Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog-Eating Contest. All types of males can be found in the convention hall, but females tend to skew toward one of two extremes. Either the lady is a total nerd, or she has gigantic breasts and is being paid by the hour to flaunt them. A long line to a booth usually signifies a mostly naked lady somewhere in that table’s immediate environs.
Luckily for me, I’m not going to the convention to meet girls. There is no cosplaying (dressing up as a character from a comic/movie/television show) or accusations of being a fanboy (obsessed follower). I’d say I go to laugh at those groups of people, but I would think my very presence invalidates that argument. To each his own, I suppose. Remember kids; comic books aren’t just for kids. They’re also for adults in denial.
Abram Fox is a history and archeology and history graduate. He can be reached at abram@umd.edu.