Todd Terwilliger

In which our hero’s voyage comes to an end, but not before he meets men of legend, accumulates some much deserved booty, and escapes with a share of swag.

Sunday. The last day, the final hurrah, the end. I set the alarm early. We had stayed up too late last night watching The Wire. You simply cannot watch just one episode of The Wire. It gets on top of you too fast. Before you know it, the clock has jumped ahead six hours and you’re laying akimbo on your couch half-naked with a belt tied around your arm, held tight by one end, the end which is clamped between your gritty teeth. You’re looking down at a throbbing vein in your arm and you don’t know why.

Somehow Uncle Bob and I, we were able to rouse ourselves. We had plans today, ideas, and ideas for plans. They all required a quick start to the morning. We moved sluggishly but with determination and an odd efficiency. No moves were wasted. No time for lazy brunching, we threw back a couple of bagels before plunging into the subway.

We made it to the Javitz Center early. Enough time to wander past the accordionist playing the Legend of Zelda theme outside the building. Enough time to descend into the bowels of the place, the subterranean space below the con floor where the panels were held. We were looking for the panel on diversity in comics. To find it, we had to wend our way past every other panel room. It could not have been put any further away from public access than it was. It was the polar outpost of the con.

The talk itself was fine enough. Some interesting thoughts were mixed in with the inevitable self-promotion. This was only the appetizer to the main course, though, so when we escaped from that dreary place and trudged back to con civilization, we prepared to seek out the meat of the day: the hip hop and comic books panel.

By the time we found it, it was half over, but no matter, we took our seats and to listen at the feet of Chuck D and DMC as they expounded on the genesis of rap, its foundations in geekdom, connection to comics, and how those same positive influences have been largely replaced in the most popular forms of the medium, with images of ignorance and violence. As one of the panelists put it, “from heroes to vigilantes”.

Towards the end, weirdly, the panel room began filling up with children. They appeared out of the walls and floors like Children of the Corn. There’s nothing quite so frightening as a horde of quietly moving children.

After waiiting for autographs and photos with Chuck D and DMC, we thrust ourselves upwards back to the convention floor. This was the last day. I determined to let the purse strings dangle loose and do some shopping.

I had done a bit of shopping the day before but today I was looking for a nugget cut loose from the con’s main vein. It didn’t take long before I found it:

At first blush, this issue of Creepy might appear wholly unremarkable. However, to my special sort of eyes, this issue might as well have been a diamond or at least a good sized chunk of zirconium.

My birthday is April 14th. This issue of Creepy is number 14 in April. It was a match made in purgatory. It turns out Eerie, Creepy’s sister magazine, also had an April #14 issue. I bought them both, and a couple of other issues to boot.

My purchasing done, I wandered through the aisles with Bob. He picked up a few pieces for himself, including a nifty illustration, before we determined to make our final leave of the place.

Back at the homestead, I spread my booty across the floor as Bob once again hypnotized himself to the human drama of The Wire.

I must say, I came away with a pretty good haul considering that I went light on the freebies. My strategy, to which I held firm all weekend, was not to given into gluttony. If I wasn’t truly interested, I didn’t take. There was no use weighing myself down with junk I would ignore as soon as it fell inside my apartment. I had to discipline myself. I had to conserve. I’d like to think my discerning taste was rewarded. I’d like to think so.

So ended my first foray into the strange expansive world of the comic convention. If it was, at first glance, exactly what I thought it would be, it precisely wasn’t once I dove beneath the surface. There was something warm about seeing so many different people from every nook and cranny of our wide wide world united under the common cause and flag of geekdom. One phantasmagorical nation under all of which I can now proudly claim citizenship. I have been converted. I will be back.

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