Up In The Sky! It's Your Friendly Neighborhood... The Long Awaited Recap of My NYCC 2012 Experience

Warning Gang!!!! This one's a doozie!


If 2011's one day was a culture shock (it was! but awesome!! ) Than the four days I committed to NYCC 2012 was full immersion -- and at one point when Kevin Bacon was at the DC Comics booth I WAS fully immersed in people gridlocking the aisle, with NYCC staff trying to yank me by the collar or sleeve in the opposite direction I was heading just to break up the human wall. Fortunately I won out after explaining I was the sole person they were trying to open the egress for!!

The shuttle busses, new last year, started AFTER the show, and for whatever reason MTA busses weren't cycling when I exited Grand Central Terminal to 42nd St. so I hooved it, until such a time I missed my turn and wound up an equal number of blocks in the opposite direction, so I arrived at the Jacob Javits Center 45 minutes later than I intended. No matter. I grabbed a sausage from a vending cart and after the last bite, went inside.

At the entrance were building block constructs of fantastical subjects:


While I never got into them at the time, I recognize the significance of the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers


Lego Hulk, while it stood as tall as many people, I think it's still scaled down ;)


For 2012, I was a lot more interactive with the show. I attended a slew of panels over the four days, beginning Thursday evening with a panel discussing power and sexuality in comics. The first half dealt with Mexican comics and class portrayal (each social class having been imbued with a level of power) the second half dealt with Marvel Comics' portrayal of its heroines and the inverse of power to sexuality: overly simplifying the wonderful essay sexy superheroines are shown to not be powerfully strong unless they become less feminine. Carol Danvers, in her skimpy black Ms. Marvel costume, while still quite powerful was portrayed as having less power than in her Binary phase. She-Hulk was another example. I'd love to provide a link, but I don't know if the essay has been published or if it's online.

After that panel, I finished my circuit around the show floor and branched off into other areas of the show before closing.

Friday morning I again got a slightly delayed start, and was overwhelmed by the amount of people funneling through the doors.

I had a mission on Friday. I wanted to attend six panels. I made it to the first panel room with fifteen minutes to spare, and saw a line waiting. I overheard someone complaining about the long wait for the IGN Theater presentations and rethought my strategy. I abandoned my plans for the first panel and headed right for Marvel's All New X-Men panel on the opposite end of the floor, getting a spot sixth in line. I only had to wait an hour and fifteen minutes for the doors to open. No problem, I've waited nine hours for a plane departure and thirteen for a train that never came. This wait was cake, and there were fellow fans to talk with. During that time, I bobbed over to the hot dog vendor fifteen feet away and ordered lunch.

"Can you break large bills?" I asked, realizing that's all I had left.

"Honey have you seen our prices?" the cashier joked, "Of course we can." Hey It's New York. I learned very young everything costs more, it's a way of life.

The panel was all I hoped and more. About halfway through Axel Alonso asks if anyone in the audience was wearing an X-Men costume, with no immediate answer, "Anyone wearing an X-Men t-shirt?" I jumped from my front row seat as someone far behind me yelled "Cyclops was right!" So Axel invited that dude to the stage to read a fresh off the press, not even bound proof of "All New X-Men #1" that arrived in the Marvel office just three days prior and then told me I would get to read it next. (I had to wait a whole month after for the issue to hit my local comic shop shelf) It was an awesome opportunity on what coincidentally was my birthday weekend. I can say I shared the stage with some of the X-Men scribes. There indeed was an X-Men costumed audience member, dressed as Emma Frost, who also got to preview the issue. She wasn't immediately seen behind one of the huge columns.

The next panel followed immediately after in the same room, another Marvel panel discussing the Re-evolution line of titles and Marvel NOW.

I spent most of Friday on the lower level of the Javits, as that's where the panels were held. the next panel I wanted to attend was the Marvel Prose Novel discussion. Beginning when I was in college, Byron Price began publishing paperbacks featuring Marvel's heroes & villains (which continued through BP books until the early 2000s). I enjoyed these novels as it broke the characters out of certain constraints. The length of a novel vs a comic allows for depth and a greater level of humanity to be added to the characters, so I was excited to hear more novels would be published, totaling four, all adaptations of popular arcs published in comic form. When it came time for questions from the audience I mentioned how I enjoyed the older paperbacks, to which Peter David expressed his gratitude with the well known arm movement and "Yes!" as if he'd just gotten a strike in bowling and I asked if there were plans for any others to follow. that of course depended upon the sales of these recent four.

Dinner came next and then the Friday night costume contest. Cosplay at NYCC ranges from simple budget to highly thought out, and cosplayers themselves come from all walks of life, even this Flash Labrador.




Even though it was getting late, there was still a lot to see. One of my favorite displays was the building blocks






At Nine PM was "The Psychology of Cosplay" panel. It was quite popular and its line wrapped around itself three times. I may have been close to the front but I still had difficulty finding a seat. Before long it was standing room only, and it ran over. I left before I wanted to because I was dictated by the Metro North train schedule and needed to make the last train home from Grand Central. (Four round trips on the train are still cheaper than one night in a Manhattan hotel.)

Saturday morning came all too quickly after such a late night Friday. Saturday is THE day if you can only make one of the four.



I had a mission this day too. The Facebook cosplay group East Coast Avengers put out a general call for area cosplayers and photographers alike for a group shot. Once everyone had arrived and the agreed upon time reached their Captain America yelled "East Coast Avengers...ASSEMBLE!" in a voice which resonated throughout the building. My heart swelled with pride, I was an assembling photog, and imagined I was feeling what heroes like Hawkeye, Captain Marvel, Falcon, Wasp, and so many others must feel.


From the group photo, and various related poses, we all went en masse to the Marvel booth for the Marvel Costume Contest. Lots of True Believers made wonderful costumes.



Everyone present figured this was the first time Hobgoblin and War Machine met up. (Wonder if Jameson at The Daily Bugle is interested in my photo...)

The Marvel NOW Avengers panel came next followed shortly after by the Writers Room, featuring well known scribes Grant Morrison, Brian K Vaughn and I think Jonathan Hickman (sorry memory fails! ). Now I wasn't found of Mr. Morrison for what he did in X-Men in 2001 but my opinion of him totally changed from the start of discussion. It was refreshing to learn as an amateur writer that they as professionals go through the same things I do during the writing process and they even shared a technique for me to use when the story isn't progressing forward.

Dinner followed and so did the shuttle bus back to Grand Central.

Sunday morning I discovered I was thoroughly exhausted but I still dragged my sore carcass to the train station for one last day once again arriving just in time to get in line for the panel I wanted to attend. (Cool thing here was my outlining one of my own tales in margins of my show souvenir book while waiting in line).

Following the "Women of Marvel" panel, also quite full I'll add -- one in the audience was dressed as Captain America with "Coulson Lives" written on the back of the helmet, foreshadowing long ahead of time Cheese's revival in the upcoming series "Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." -- well after the panel was lunch and another cycle around the show floor before closing the place down in the early afternoon. Four very active days and I still didn't see the whole show, but that was my choice, I could have done so.

I'll leave this recount with pics of two of my faves from Sunday. Deadpool in the Uncanny X-Force costume and Harley Quinn as Bat Girl. One of the things I enjoy about the cons is when cosplayers mingle, creating unorthodox match-ups across publishing lines, genres or realities.

The Beauty Of Newtown

A lot has happened since my last entry and it's taken me some time to get my thoughts on this particular topic in order. The trouble is; I'm caught in the middle of both sides of the so-called gun issue. On the one side, I'm all about not allowing my nation's government to curb, abridge or even remove any of my civil liberties nor my inalienable rights. I also work for a law enforcement agency and was even taught some basic hand gun safety growing up. I know full-well guns in the hands of responsible people are safe.

But also, the tragedy of December 2012 at Sandy Hook Elementary School, while geographically close to my home is also emotionally close to my home as well. In addition to an old school mate of mine's friends losing their beloved daughter, the son of a fellow train club member of mine lost three of his friends (the son is a student at a different Newtown elementary school and was not in physical danger that day). Additionally, another friend of mine, from when I used to be a railroad brakeman, lives within walking distance of Sandy Hook Elementary. So you see it's been rough for me to find my perspective and even as I write this, I don't have my thoughts firmed up, I'm certain I never will. It's a heartbreak and in my experience, heartbreak doesn't heal well -- it may never.

The tragic part of it is not being able to punish the wrong doer. He not only stole 26 lives, 20 of which never got the chance to experience the wonderament of life -- those little moments of awe one notices as they mature and progress through adulthood. They're denied the splendor of a rainbow, the unspoken bond between scion and parent over hunting or fishing or hiking, etc., and we're denied a culpable fall guy to avenge their lives.

But what's sadder is the lobbying that swelled out of control with the aim (no pun intended) to tighten gun control laws to be even stricter. The tragic fact of nearly every school and workplace shooting is the killer finds his or her way around the laws.

Lastly, Newtown affects me one other way:

Here's some of my favorite things in this image:
- a train (one I handled when it was being loaded at the stone quarry earlier that day)
- the red building is the former Newtown, CT, passenger station, now home to Cave Comics and Burgerittoville. At New York Comic Con in 2012 the person sitting next to me during the Marvel X-Men panel said it best "there's nothing better than going to Cave Comics and reading your new issues while eating a Burgeritto."

What's Burgerittoville? It's a restaurant that specializes in hamburgers wrapped in a soft tortilla shell instead of on a bun. A hamburger buritto if you will. (I'm overdue for another visit myself)

And finally, what you don't see in this picture are the seven friends also photographing this rare event of a train on this stretch of railroad in daylight.

Newtown, CT, is one of those quiet, unassuming stereotypical small towns everyone experiences nostalgia over, not to mention everything it holds dear for me.

How About Some Retooling?

So, you've read the earlier post regarding a potential reality show I wrote about. Well, at work the other evening I devised what I initially thought was a new premise until I began ruminating verbosely about it to my coworkers.

Here's the thing, American Idol has run its course. Really. Basically, people watch it for the train wreck of those who audition and aren't chosen for Hollywood. So I surmised taking all of the reality shows out there: American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, America's Got Talent, etc. etc. You'll have a great judges pool to boot. That'll also give you plenty of sensational spectacles to laugh/cringe at/with/for.

Then it dawned on me...

That's "The Gong Show"

Then I figured someone could just bring that back (again) and I realized, today's viewing audience doesn't exactly relate to Chuck Barris, so I figured I'd concede to letting Ryan Seacrest host it. Obviously, this is probably just another pipe dream and if it actually does take off, I won't get any monetary compensation anyway...but it'd be cool if I did.

Anyway, what do I know?

Beautiful Tranquility

If ever a fictional place came to life out of a book or movie, it would be Letchworth State Park.

I first visited Letchworth over Labor Day weekend in 2009 and immediately fell in love with the place. If I were to marry again, I'd wish the ceremony and associated photographs to be in the park. Additionally, upon my death, whenever that my be, I wish my ashes be dispersed in the park (if possible). I've not been anywhere else as peaceful and beautiful as Letchworth. More often than not, "Wow" escaped my lips compelled by the sheer natural wonder of nature's creation, respectfully adapted by a thoughtful mankind.

Upon glimpsing the footbridge from high above peeking out from behind tree branches, I sought out the path which would bring me down to it.

At nearly every turn, there's a breathtaking view in the park

But the real reason I ever ventured to Letchworth to begin with was for scenic train photographs. In 2009, I fell short of discovering a spot in the park and dedicated nearly two and a half hours this trip searching for it with a great success. Nature and the railroad cooperated for a brief wait and well-lit results

Upon returning to the Upper Falls area, located under the railroad trestle, I stumbled upon an unexpected surprise

Catwoman was awaiting bicyclists who were on a fundraising ride, rather ironic considering the previous weekend I spent all of Saturday at a local comics convention.
I didn't know which section of the park to stay in!!

As with the last time, I enjoyed my visit to the park, and already want to go back there again.

3rd Annual ComiCONN

So it's been another year since the last "Show For The Fans By The Fans" and I must say, third time's the charm so far. In the Spring it seemed ComiCONN was battling against the odds, coming off of a bout against Hurricane Irene in 2011 and appropriate venues seemingly non-existant.


Well, the Trumbull, CT, Marriot stepped up to the challenge and a date was set for the Third Annual ComiCONN.
World reknown artists and writers attended the show on August 18, 2012 and likely helped to contribute to the overwhelmingly unexpected crowd which pushed the limits of local fire codes, and caused the cosplayers to move outside for the public photo sessions (an improvement in my opinion, especially once the weather improved).

I bought a few prints, got some comics autographed, and took nearly 300 images of costumed heroes and villains from home-made to near professional level.


One group in particular touted nearly three dozen cosplayers and was very impressive.


Harley Quinn, Deadpool and, my personal favorite, Lady Deadpool personified their characters as if they'd jumped right off of the page. Even the Tony Stark in glowing Iron Man armor (with shades and carrying his headpiece) was true to his character (right down to the numerous heroines hanging off of him throughout the afternoon) and he could turn right around and relate to a little kid with ease. They were a great group, as you can see.

Bizarro Show

People, as a rule, don't like performance art. No one goes to a concert to watch an avant garde performer act weird. One purposesly CHOOSES to go to a theatre to willingly watch performance art. There's nothing wrong with that, and I'm fully in support of it. Had I more money, I'd support the arts. Alas, I can't, other than the occasional motion picture, audio compilation (cd or record), concert, or musical theatre. I'd go to a play also, but again, no money means no attendance. Oh, and I forgot books. Books I can do. I can read between calls for help at work, but I'm getting off topic.

My mind was wandering the other day while in the bathroom, and that's how I devised my opening lines. I imagined one's typical band of popular musicians (be they country, rock, pop, rap, or whatever genre one enjoys) putting on an enjoyable show for its fans, then suddenly doing something so unorthodox as standing on stage silent for 23 minutes (there's a recorded piece whose title I forget but it's just that. The composition requires the performers to rest for such a duration) or something as avant garde as pretending to be swans in front of rear projected footage of something totally unrelated showing on a screen behind them, then picking up their instruments again and suddenly they're a genre band again. Yeah, I'm scary like that. Just listen to my mp3 player...

Any Moment My Wall Will Be Gone And a Dude Will Have Fallen Through My Ceiling

Let me quickly set the scene, as I'm usually too long winded for my own good -- not that I'm complaining...

So, there's eight units in my condominium building, four per floor, two each per floor per front and back. The lower back unit behind my upper front one caught fire in January 2012, casuing me much consternation and a continuing lack of securital sense at home since.

Following the fire, my downstairs neighbors, those immediately below my unit, underwent partial renovation from water damage caused by an incident in December 2011 (their walls being open to expose the studs helped extinguish the fire handily). Now, I work overnights; since I've never been a morning person, the workload is much more to my capabilities, and it's the furthest away from a co-worker who, at the time, I was experiencing friction with.

Renovation and sleep are more combustible than me and that co-worker ever were.

I made it through the downstairs remodelling relatively unscathed as it was a lot of drywall finishing; that is some pneumatic nail gunning and/or screw gun work. There was some hammering, but for the most part I chose to stay at home and try to sleep through it.

Fast forward to the end of April 2012 and work to rebuild the two fire damaged units immediately behind me (top and bottom floors) began in earnest. Rather more specifically, the one top floor immediately behind me. I almost wonder if it were to be better homeless than the contractors cutting everything out with a saws-all and scabbing in replacement framework.

Okay, wishing one's self homeless is not good karma, but it's so frustrating (not to mention insanity invoking) to hear the rafters vibrate above me, forty feet away from where they're cutting (or ARE they on the other side of my ceiling after all...?).

The thumping of thge nail gun, the thrum of the air compressor, the radio and even the dude singing along with such are all quite tolerable and I've proven already I can sleep through that. In fact, I've come to find great irrational reassurance the guys are there working while I sleep because if something else catastrophic were to occur, they're awake to rouse me for an evacuation. But the saws-all and the sledgehammer banging have gotten to become more than I can stand. It's as if any minute they'll cut through my wall or one of them will fall through my ceiling while I try to sleep. Not to mention, the other night my downstairs neighbor, immediately below me, revealed a crucial truss was deemed of questionable condition as a result of the fire. Had it needed to be replaced, I would be staying someplace else, my cats would be either in a shelter of some foster home, and my place would be a bigger wreck than it already is with no ceiling or walls of its own. I'm at my wits end.

Titanic Railroad????

What, pray tell, does a photo of a train have to do with the 100th Anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic?

Actually, more than one might think. I refer you to Larry Lowenthal's "Titanic Railroad:The Southern New England" (Marker Press Brimfield, MA 1998) for the full story, but to briefly summarize, Charles Melville Hays was the driving figurehead of the Grand Trunk Railroad. At the height of the JP Morgan/Charles Mellen reign of forming a monopolistic transportation system in the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad, Hays was aiming for his own route in Rhode Island and Massachusetts to compete with what was basically the only other railroad in region. (The relatively tiny Central Vermont Railway running north to south from New London, CT to St Albans, VT, was a Grand Trunk RR affiliation). Hays proposed "Southern New England RR" would have run from a port at Providence, RI, to the Central Vermont yard in Palmer, MA (where the above photo was taken on September 3, 1989).

Hays was a passenger aboard the Titanic returning from Europe following another trip to garner support and potential funding for the SNE construction. We all know the outcome of Titanic, and Hays was among the majority who perished. In spite of this, construction commenced on the SNE in fits and starts unitl finally ending altogether in 1915, leaving graded right-of-ways and unadorned concrete piers awaiting bridges and rails which will never come.

How would the rail scene be different had Titanic not sunk? Perhaps today's Providence & Worcester Railroad might have a competitior between Providence, RI, and Central Massachusetts in the New England Central RR (successor of Central Vermont which was sold out of the GT parent Canadian National family in the mid 1990s) instead of an interchange partner at Willimantic, CT, numerous miles out of the way. Perhaps, as history has shown, the SNE would have become just what it is: an abandooned railroad grade through having succumbed as much of the NYNH&H superlative secondary lines throughout the region due to that area's slowly eroding economy.

To this day, 100 years later, concrete monoliths and other telltale features can still be located if one cares to look hard enough. I myself will make the adventure sometime in the future, though I don't know when, but at least when the leaves aren't in the way.

The SNE lives on, however, in its mystique but also at least in one model railroad form, documented in Model Railroader magazine.

My Almost Two Encounters With Davy Jones

While I was enrolled as a student in Pennsylvania's Susquehanna University, Davy Jones, of The Monkees owned a farm in the geographical area and was spotted numerous times downtown by fellow students of mine.

I never got to meet him.

I came close -- twice -- each time missing him by one day. The first time was early in my college years and he was enjoying dinner at a popular local restaurant the night before I ate there myself. You guessed it, later in my college years, he ate at this very same restaurant the night AFTER I had.

Now this is only relevant because I've been an avid fan of The Monkees from gaining sentience (which coincidentally falls around their 10th anniversary of 1976, not the MTV catapulted 20th anniversary in 1986) when Boston's channel 56 ran The Monkees tv series in early afternoons back to back with the Banana Splits. Fortunately, my inability to ever meet Davy had no negative effect upon my meeting his fellow bandmates Peter Tork and Micky Dolenz closer to home.

Thanks for all of the wonderful music (some of the album tracks are better than the singles) and for the wonderful memories (everybody remembers the Brady Bunch appearance, does anyone remember the Scooby Doo episodes?). With Davy's passing my winning concert tickets to their 45th anniversary tour in June 2011 are that much more special, as the tour came to an abrupt, confusing end shortly thereafter.

Rest in peace, Artful Dodger

A Lobster I Can Fight, A Fire I Cannot Part II

You might remember in July 2010 the condo building next door to the one I live in suffered a devastating fire, and to this day occupants are finally just moving back home. If I thought (as I did then) that was too close for comfort imagine my heartbreak when I heard a young woman crying outside my window minutes before my alarm clock chimed for me to get ready for work the other night.

Then I heard the sirens followed by "What's on fire?"

Off went the covers, on went the work clothes (though I WAS in violation of dress code as since I would likely be evacuated I was going to save an X-Men shirt or two), grabbed my SD cards, cooler and work bag and a pair of special model train locomotives before the FD was pounding on my door.

So it was happening again, but now in my own building.

It was surrealistic being inside a burning building checking all of cats's hiding spaces to evacuate them, staying just ahead of the fire which clawed its way through a neighbor's kitchen soffet. By the Lord's grace I was making it out of my bedroom with the last cat when thin white/gray smoke began filling my hallway. Time was up, no saving the bishoujo, photos, trains or music beyond the mp3 player I tossed in my bag.

"I'm out, I'm out!" I yelled to the fire department awaiting me and the cats, as I bled from the scratches the neurotic Himalayan gave me on face, neck and hands.

Once I'd booked off of work and called my family to assure them I was okay I mentally checked off what meant the most to me to salvage after this disaster.

Fortunately, not all was lost. In fact, five hours after the 911 call myself and six other units were cleared for occupancy -- the blaze confined to the originating unit and the one above. Vent holes had been cut into the building, but it was spared significant water damage due to the fire being caught so quickly.

Of course, my place smells like I sat around the campfire, but I'm so lucky that's all. There's no visible smoke damage and no water damage from the fire. (And so soon after replacing that comics run, phew).

I'm concerned though, as I had the water heater flood in December and the fire scare the other night; I fear there'll be a plague of locusts in February! (Just kidding)

Rebuilding the Archives

The Communications Dept partook in a Secret Santa exchange this past Holiday Season. Even at work, people know I like superheroes and my Secret Santa gifted me with a gift certificate to one of the many comic shops located in the region where I live.

Naturally, on one of my days off I took advantage of the gift certificate to fill in the holes of my X-Men collection; to replace what I sold when I was married, thinking that part of me was past (and it was at the time, but it's come back). I'm happy to say I've completed the run I originally had of Uncanny X-Men when I first started collecting the title with #319 (and originally stopping around #397 or so). Now more than eight years since I last had these issues, and one year since I started grabbing up back issues again, I have back what I first had in one of the titles (only a dozen or so more to rebuild!)

R.I.P. The Heathen

I've been a few people in my employment lifetime: a fast food employee, stone quarry laborer, disc & karaoke jockey, and emergency services dispatcher. That's quite a range of tasks, I'll admit. Along the way, I've worked with many an interesting person. None of whom would normally earn a blog post.



However;



One can't deny the stuff of legend. through the magic if recollection (and the lack of special effects on this board) we travel back in time to the booming mid-nineteen nineties; when I was at the quarry earning twice as much as I used to at the fast food joint under a freckle faced red headed girl, yet with half the stress. Times were good, except for the nasty seasonal lay-off every Winter (who wants to do construction when the ground and stock piles are frozen?) So when it came time for call-back in the Spring, I was open to do anything just so I could have a paycheck again.

This one particular Spring I was called back prior to the commencement of second shift production, which meant I'd be on the maintenance crew. I was intimidated, because the maintenance crew was a tightly knit, small crew of burly manly men. I could never hold my own among these guys. Yet there I was. The maintenance foreman was nicknamed The Heathen because he could out muscle and out endure anyone on his crew. Quarry legends have him hauling weighty electric motors up numerous flights of stairs all by himself. Another story has him pushing up a one foot square wooden truss beam by himself for it to be jacked as it was sagging under its heavy load and old age (in other words he was pushing against an entire section of floor in the building!) and yes, I'd witnessed his strength first hand. He expected almost as much from his men, yet if you put your best foot forward and you were reliable, he could be your best friend too. Many a night when the weather was nice in the Summer and the work was on schedule, there'd be a cookout for dinner. That's camaraderie. Over time, my muscles bulked up enough from the workload and I too could hold my own with the crew, even earning the moniker myself!

Alas, all of that machismo took its toll. In later years The Heathen was watching from the sidelines; back and muscles no longer invulnerable. Sadly, we lost our friend Heathen this week. He will be missed.

Facebook, You Fool and Fickle Friend

I know I've blogged about this before. The only reason I even set up a Facebook account was so that I could search for a crush I had throughout the later half of my public school years, just out of curiousity whatever had become of her; only to no avail.

Today I logged into Facebook, one of the few times each year that I do, and I'm bombared with a list -- a SUPER LONG LIST that is -- of people I might know and whom I might wish to friend. Well, once I realize the page is going to keep adding all of these folks (like a sick six degrees of friends of Mr. Oz) I'm just about to bail out of that page when her name flashes across the screen, freezing me in my seat and prompting this entry.

Before I'm even logged into Fleeting History I've decided I'm over her. I;m not going to friend her just to glean what's happened or happening. I'm over her. Obviously not enough to have kept me from writing this entry, but I'm still not going to friend her. That's a part of my life that's best left alone.

IN the so mentioned previous entry about this I concluded any relationship would never have worked based on things I learned about myself through my failed marriage. THAT still holds true also.

But, oh, Facebook, you evil, demented friend for revealing her avatar to me. That's as cruel as the April Fool's Day joke from Jr High School.

Lunatic Fringe

I KNEW you were out there...

I Destroyed My Ankle on the Journey to Heaven and Back

2011 has been a relatively good year to me. Granted I've had my share of frustration throughout the year but I've also been lucky. How many people can say they've attended two comics conventions (besides vendors and professional cosplayers that is).

That's right. The day Hurricane Irene made landfall in New York City I was attending the second annual ComiCONN (I split for home to rest for work ahead of the storm's arrival). Fast forward approximately six weeks and I made the trek to New York City's Jacob Javits Center for New York Comic Con. Of course, I had to buy a multi-day pass to get in on Saturday because the single Saturday tickets had sold out before I could guarantee someone filling in for me at work, but it was worth it.

I clocked off of work at end of tour 7am Saturday morning, stopped at home to change clothes, and headed right out for the train station getting into Manhattan's Grand Central Terminal sometime after ten (I wasn't too worried about time). Immediately exiting onto 42nd St I saw a group of cosplayers headed for the Con, including The Baroness

Following that photo I power walked a good six blocks (hence the ankle injury) for another group of costumed folk en route to the convention.

Upon arrival it was as if I walked into an actual Superhero Convention. You're familiar with the political party conventions or say carpenter's conventions or policeman's conventions? Imagine the same kind of event but with superheroes

A veritable Who's Who of crime fighting AND villainy were in attendance.




The Nutmeggers who put on ComiCONN do a fantastic job, but New York Comic Con is an incredible experience. The convention immerses you into the character's world and it's as if you're really hanging out with and talking to your idols from the printed page or big and little screens.



What might have been cool would have been to have Magneto at the Chevrolet display where he could have acted as if he were using his mutant powers to levitate the car (which was actually a giant balloon in the shape of a Chevy which flew about people's heads. An Obi Wan cosplayer though did take advantage of the situation and made like he used The Force to levitate the car over our heads)

Many of the costumes were very well done also:

Including those which lit up:

Iron Man's repulsors and Jubilees "fireworks" at her fingertips

Of course Star Trek and Star Wars were well represented


I think it'd be pretty cool to have frozen Han Solo cubes in my beverage or Solo shaped chocolates in a dish.

But I digress. The whole reason I attend is for the heroes and it's pretty neat, in my opinion when characters mix it up, like Waldo's Avengers

So not only was Waldo found, but a Green Lantern and Luigi assembled too!

Sadly, my day had to wind down. My tired body (which had been up almost around the clock at this point) didn't have the stamina to endure the long food lines (though I admit it's pretty neat mingling among heroes doing such mundane things as eat lunch and share stories) but alas, I could no longer hang. It was time to trudge my aching ankle the dozen or so blocks back to Grand Central Terminal and a well needed restful train ride. As I began the trek my eyes caught another group of heroes gathering outside the center and how fitting they belonged to a group close to my heart

So yes, being immersed in New York Comic Con was certainly a heavenly experience for me. It was an eye opening experience (like moving up to major league baseball from little league) and I have a better idea what to try when next I visit NYCC or even in the future maybe the granddaddy of all: San Diego.