Convention Report: FiComic, Barcelona April 11th to 14th

So, Barcelona Con is done. It's my first time attending a con in continental Europe. I had heard that the larger cons in France and Spain nearly equalled SDCC in terms of headcount (at least until SDCC went crazy with attendance figures in 2007 to the present.) I can confirm that this is indeed the case with there easily being 15,000 at the Barcelona Con on Saturday the 13th.

I only went to one day of the convention because there were a limited number of guests that interested me and I figured I'd be able to see them all in one day. I was wrong. I'll do a quick list of Pros and Cons and then an overview. Away we go!

Pros.

• Ticket prices: €7 for a day pass with a booking fee of €2 if you buy them on-line or in El Corte Ingles. That's an amazing price.
• Location: The Convention takes place in Fira De Barcelona near Montjuic. It's easy to get to via Metro or bus and the area, like most of Barcelona, is lovely looking. The Catalonian Art Museum is five minutes away at the top of a nearby hill. The Sonar Music Festival is held across the road so the area is well able to handle large numbers of visitors.
• Sales floor: The sales floor is easily the equal of SDCC, mostly focusing on merchandise but with comics as well. Most of the comics are in Catalan or Spanish as you would expect. The range of merchandise was pretty impressive. If you were looking for T-shirts, DVD's or action figures etc. then you would have no bother finding what you're looking for at fairly reasonable prices.
• Cosplay: Easily the most impressive Con I've been to in terms of people dressing up as characters. I'd say easily ten percent of the attendees were in costume. Many of these were impressive. A Big shout out to the Danerys, Zatanna, Ezio Auditore and Matt Murdock with Elektra who were as good as their screen counterparts.
• Decent film and TV presence: Fox, Microsoft, Nintendo and Warner Bros all had booths giving out freebies and showing trailers upcoming releases.
• Art displays: There were several of these. One focused on Superman, one for the Avengers and X-Men and another on western comics. The Superman display had original artwork and comics going back to 1943 up to date. The Avengers and X-men display had original art from many of the artists who have worked on those characters (George Perez, Stuart Immonen, John Byrne, Mark Bagley, Jim Lee etc)
• Beer: Beer was sold at a few places inside the convention hall. Think about that for a second.
• Crèche: There was a crèche for the Kids in case you didn't want little Eduardo hanging off you all day.
• Big retailers: FNAC and El Corte Ingles had massive stalls selling books and comics at standard retail prices. It kept manners on the other retailers as they knew they couldn't fleece you. They also took credit cards, which is rare at a convention.
• Media: The con was well advertised with posters on bus stops, the metro, lampposts and even TV coverage. It drew lots of crowds of day trippers and families which added to the atmosphere.
• Editors: Marvel and DC and Spanish publishers were there looking for talent in a portfolio review area similar to that of San Diego.

Cons.

• No artist alley: I usually try to buy comics and get sketches from Artists and writers at conventions. There was no opportunity to do this at Ficomic.
• Guest access: There were some great guests but they were difficult to talk to or even meet. The fact that they had no set tables that they were going to be at during the day meant it was hard to find them. Signing sessions were generally short and crowded, limiting chances to speak to the creatives.
• Panels: The three rooms set up for the panels were fairly small so you'd little chance of getting into them. The one for the artist presentations was minuscule. Barely one hundred people would fit in it.

Overall? It was fine. There would be better cons to attend if you wanted to break in to comics or chat to creators (i.e. smaller ones) but the location was great and the sales floor was worth it if you had an infinite amount of money and were into vast amounts of merchandise. (I ended up buying more Mass Effect T shirts at reasonable prices, which is never a bad thing.)The art displays were very impressive. Worth going to if you want the SDCC scale experience without the €1,500 in air fare. It's probably best done as a one day con attendance in the midst of a larger city break (which is what I did) as I don’t think that there’s enough going on to keep you there for multiple days

Next up is Arcade Con in July, DICE in September and Roll Out Roll Call in October.

The Teleporter (Part Two)

Susan pulled the makeshift turban / scarf she’d made from a tea towel tighter around her head to make sure it covered her neck properly. She sunburned easily and didn't want to expose more flesh than was absolutely necessary to the broiling sun. She and Ben had set off from their recently teleported house two hours before. Ben's device had deposited their dwelling in the middle of a desert. Neither of them had any idea of where they were but they knew they couldn’t stay in the house for long. They had emptied their former abode of whatever they though would be useful: torches, a tent, some bottled water, food and a spare change of clothes. Luckily for them their Dad had gone through a midlife crisis phase of wanting to get “back to nature” and had purchased all the supplies they would ever need.

Now they were thirty minutes into a trek to a distant volcano that may provide Ben's newest invention with enough power to send them back home. Ben had constructed a teleporter out of random household utensils and electrical wiring. It was currently strapped into a small handcart which Susan had attached via a rope to her belt. This allowed her to tug it uncomfortably behind her.

Ben carried their food and water. He walked on ahead as he didn't find the sand dunes as hard to navigate as Susan did. Susan worried out loud about what would happen when it got dark.
"I'm not worried" said Ben. "It's not mid-day here yet. Assuming that the sun here behaves the same way it does back home."
"What do you mean by 'back home'? Where are we? Are we even on the right planet?"
"We should be. I don't think there was enough juice in the national grid to send us across the galaxy."
"So where are we, genius? Africa?"
"I don't think so: We may not even be in the twenty first century anymore. It's possible that the teleporter sent us back or forward in time. It's just another dimension after all. The fourth."
"How long to get to the mountain?"
"Volcano"
"Whatever."
"I think maybe six hours."
"Six hours! Mum and Dad will definitely be home by then. They'll know something's wrong."
"Well, duh: they'll see that the house is missing as soon as they enter the driveway."
"You're taking this far too easily Ben. They'll kill us when we get back."
"I'm not worried. They'll blame you. You're the eldest. I'll just get grounded." Ben said.
"You little..." began Susan, realising that he was absolutely correct. Mum always blamed her over Ben whenever anything went wrong.
"Call me that word again..." Ben interrupted: "...and I'll make sure Mum grounds you for life. She does everything I say. You know that."

Susan shut her mouth. She suddenly realised that her younger brother was psychotic. Their mother had taken to reading new age parenting manuals when Ben was born. Obviously their parents letting him sleep with them until he was ready to move to his own bedroom aged five was a big mistake, Susan mused.

They continued walking across the barren landscape. Occasionally the view of long monotonous stretches of sand was broken up by a pile of rocks. One of the piles of rocks looked strange from a distance. The rocks were rectangular though the edges had been worn smooth by the wind and time. They looked like they had been sculpted a long time ago.  As they got closer to the pile of rocks, Ben dropped his backpack and ran towards them.
"Ben!" shouted Susan. "Get back here!"
Ben ignored her and dropped to his knees. He scrabbled in the sand with his hands until he uncovered something. He pulled it from the ground and studied it for a few moments before returning to where Susan waited.
"Look! I saw the sunlight reflecting off it!" said Ben, holding out a piece of metal. It was part of a sign. Most of it was missing but writing could be made out on its face. It mentioned something about a war and a date: 2032.
"What does this mean?" asked Susan.
"We're in the future." responded Ben, as if explaining himself to an idiot.
"You moron!" exploded Susan. "It's not bad enough that we've been teleported by your dumb contraption, we've been sent through time as well! This isn’t a desert. It’s like a nuclear wasteland or something."
"Obviously."
"I'm going to have Mum and Dad cart you off to a mental hospital when we get back! This week it’s a teleporter, next week it’s going to be a warhead or something. You're a danger."
"Says you." Ben muttered.

They continued walking. Susan made sure to let Ben go ahead so that she could keep him in sight at all times. She was beginning to become a little afraid of him. They reached the volcano and started their ascent. The climb up the gently sloping sides wasn’t difficult. Ben mentioned that there was very little weathering or lose rocks on their ascent. The volcano was a relative newcomer, geologically speaking. Susan didn’t reply. She was unsure as to what she could add to the conversation. Ben continued to lead the way up to the crater at the summit.

When they reached the top Ben took the homemade teleporter from the cart and began making adjustments. He unspooled a length of wire that he had ripped from the walls of their house and threw one end of it into the crater. The end he had dropped contained a small metallic box with some circuit boards inside.  He attached the other end to the device and a light on the side began to blink.
"My teleporter is converting the heat energy from the magma in the crater into electricity. It'll take a few minutes until it's fully charged. ."
Susan visibly relaxed: certain that they would be home soon.
"There's only one small problem." Ben continued. "I can't take the risk of you coming back with me."
"What are you talking about?" replied Susan.
"You want to stop my work. You want to make them put me away. It’s not very likely that Mum and Dad will listen to you and make me stop building things but I can't allow that. Even if there’s only a small chance."
"How are you going to stop me, peanut?" Susan mocked as she stepped forward to put some manners on her little brother.
Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a rock that he had picked up when uncovering the sign earlier. He whipped the rock at Susan's' head and it struck her squarely on the temple. She fell down, dazed and only semi-conscious.
Ben checked his teleporter and saw that it was charged. He picked it up and hit the sequence of buttons that would send him back home.

“I’m leaving you here.” Ben said. “You’re my sister, so I can’t just kill you but abandoning you here will suffice.”
"Ben...Please." said Susan, struggling to get to her feet.
"I'll leave the food and water. There should be enough to last you a week. Maybe you can find more buried somewhere under the sand."
Ben disappeared in a flash of green light.

Ben re-materialised in the field near where his house had once stood. Patches of grass were smouldering from fires that had broken out hours earlier in the wake of the energy discharged by theiir teleportation. Blue lights from a large group of fire engines, police cars and ambulances illuminated the area. The power in the streetlights was still out. Ben smirked: his experiment had probably burned out most of the electrical wiring in the country. He hid the teleporter in a hedge and ran up to where his house had once stood. His parents stood in the yard. His mother was crying as his father spoke to the police.
His mother let out a cry of relief when she saw Ben approach and ran to hug him.
"Ben!" She said. "What happened?"
"It was Susan." Ben replied. "She was smoking upstairs in the house and her cigarettes started a fire. I got out and ran for safety. Did she get out?"
"Susan didn't smoke and we can't find her." said Ben's father.
"She did!” Ben protested. “She hid cigarettes in the rockery over there. She was in her room. Maybe she couldn't get out in time." said Ben, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes.
His father checked the rockery and found the sandwich bag with Susan’s cigarettes stashed inside. He shook his head and cried for his daughter.
Ben buried his head in his Mother's shoulder and pretended to sob, smiling all the while.

The Teleporter (Part One)

Susan sat on the back step of her parent's house, smoking a cigarette. It was a quiet May evening, bright and cool with only a slight warm breeze. Perfect illicit smoking weather. Her folks would kill her if they found her with a cigarette in hand but they wouldn't be home for hours yet.

Her new found love for smoking had started as a stress reliever for her upcoming final exams. She'd quit as soon as they were over, she promised.

She carefully stubbed out the cigarette, made sure it was extinguished and flung the butt over the wall into the field behind the house. No one would ever find it there amongst the long grass and occasional sheep. She took a sandwich bag from her pocket and sealed the contraband inside to keep them from getting damp.  She walked over to the rockery and hid her smokes, now secured in the plastic bag under a rock.

She dusted off her hands and returned to the house. She'd gargle some heavy duty mouthwash when she got upstairs and her parents would be none the wiser.

"What you doing?" asked Ben as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. Ben was her eight year old brother. He was annoyingly inquisitive. He stuck his fingers in electrical sockets just to see what happened and pestered their parents for chemistry sets and tools every Christmas and Birthday.
"I was...meditating. Zen. You know?" said Susan.
"You were smoking." said Ben accusingly. "Smoking causes cancer and impotence." he warned.
"You're eight. You shouldn't know half the words in that sentence."
"Just because you don't doesn't mean I shouldn't." Ben replied.
"What are you doing? Spying on me?"
"Because your life is so interesting? I was looking to see if Mum left any cardboard in the recycling bin. I'm making something."
"Another base for your army men?"
"A teleporter! I was awake half the night drawing up the plans."
"Yeah, right." Susan replied. Ben was always coming up with crazy ideas. They never came to anything.
"I was! It took me an hour to solve the flux capacitor problem. Sometime this week I'll be able to send this house to another dimension."
"And for this you need cardboard?"
"Just for the prototype."
"Right. Well make sure you ask first before you teleport us."
"I will."

Ben was like that. He was always coming up with crazy plans to entertain himself. The family had moved to the countryside a year ago and they now lived miles away from anywhere interesting. Susan had become addicted to social media to compensate. Ben had turned inward and used his limitless imagination to keep occupied.

Susan went upstairs and left Ben rummaging in the bin for the inner tubes of toilet rolls. She used some mouthwash and returned to her bedroom and the study of French verbs.

Ben was quiet for an entire hour, working away on his project. Susan finished her French study and went downstairs to grab a coke.

Her brother was sitting cross legged on the floor of the dining room with a sheet of A3 paper, a half dozen toilet roll inserts and a determined expression. Susan got her drink and went back up to her room.

Fifteen minutes later Ben tramped up the stairs and entered their parent’s room across the hall. He spent about five minutes inside and came out dragging something. Susan sighed and did her best to ignore him.

After an hour Ben walked to the hall, stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted up at Susan.
"Susan?" He said.
"What?"
"The prototype is ready. Can I test it?"
"God, Ben. I'm trying to study."
"I know. Can I test it?" he pleaded.
"If I let you, will you shut up?" asked Susan.
"Yes."
"Then test it and stop annoying me."

Ben ran back to the dining room. After less than a minute, Susan became aware of a humming noise. It was just on the edge of hearing but it was there. She left her bedroom and headed for the stairs. Suddenly the humming nose increased in volume and pitch. Susan's stomach flip flopped and she felt queasy. She nearly fell down the stairs but managed to grab the banister to stop from crashing onto the floor below.

Suddenly the world returned to normal and Susan felt fine again. Ben was running around the dining room in circles and dancing.
"I did it! I did it." He said in a sing song voice.
"What did you do? I almost puked all over the landing!"
"I teleported us! Look!" said Ben, pointing out the picture window to their back garden.
Except it wasn't their back garden. The green grass and hedgerows had been replaced by sand and scorching sun. An unknown mountain in the distance belched smoke ominously.
Susan took it all in. She almost fainted from shock.
"You idiot!" she said as she recovered. "Send us back home."
"I can't. I said I'd teleport the house to another dimension. I didn't say I could teleport it back. You really should listen to what I say more carefully."

Susan grabbed the front of Ben’s shirt: “You little teabagger! Mum and Dad will kill us! Send us home.”

“You were told to stop calling me that. And I can’t send us home. I need a power source.”

“There must be something.”

“I guess I could tap into the geothermal energy of that volcano over there.”

“What volcano?” asked Susan.

“See that mountain over there that’s smoking almost as badly as you were earlier? We call it a volcano. You are going to fail your geography exam; you know that, don’t you?”

“Shut your dumb mouth, Ben. Can you send us home or not?”

“Dumb mouth? I just invented the Teleporter! And yes; I can send us home. Maybe. But we need to get there first.”

“What about the house?”

“It’s staying. I’ll never be able to send that back too. I must have burned out half the circuit breakers in the county by sending us here.”

Susan put her head in her hands. Her evening plans had involved another smoke and an “X-Factor” marathon, now she had to go on a trek across a strange land with her idiotic genius brother. The French verbs would have to wait.

 

To be continued!

The Driving Test

I sat down in the waiting room of the driving test centre. The cardboard furniture wasn't particularly comfortable but it beat pacing the floor like a loon and rubbing my head against the walls in sheer boredom. The letter from the Road Safety Authority crinkled in my hands as I nervously folded and re-folded it. That's my biggest problem: I'm a fidgeter. I fidget. I always have to have something in my hands when I’m anxious, tired or upset. Since those three emotions occupy my glandular system for ninety percent of the time I go through a lot of clicky pens and paperclips.

I've been here for about a half an hour already, my on-going anxiety means that I'm always far too early for appointments. The blonde girl who went out on the test before me is back already. That's not a good sign. She's been crying judging by her puffy eyes and running mascara. Balls. That means the tester is going to be in a foul mood when he brings me out. Thanks a bunch Blondie.

The Blonde girl left the tester's office, still crying. Are they going to let her drive home like that? She's a danger to other road users and since I’m going to be one of those in less than ten minutes that concerns me greatly. Another hazard I'll have to look out for.

The tester walks into the room and calls my name. I nod in reply and stand up, following him into his office.

He scribbles my name on a test sheet, takes my car registration and looks over my learner permit. Everything is fine. He takes out a laminated sheet with the road signs printed on one side.

He points to one at random: It's the sign for a clearway. I answer him and he moves on, asking me three more signs. I answer them correctly, i think.

We go out to my car, a decade old Peugeot 206 that I've named "Daisy" after my first crush. She was a cow. Literally. In my defence: I was four when i fell for her and who doesn't like free unpasteurised milk?

Daisy has her NCT and has been serviced. She's ready to go. The tester has me check the lights and then open the bonnet to show him how I'd top up the windscreen wipers. I wonder to myself whether anyone's failed this portion of the test and if I could be the first. I mentally slap myself across the buttocks for thinking such defeatist thoughts.

Ten minutes into the exam and i haven't even started the engine. Finally the tester tells me to get inside and he asks me more questions about the internal controls. Now it's time to drive.

We leave the test centre and go right, straight into the town. It's a Wednesday morning and the whole area is quiet. It's too late to encounter any of that school traffic and too early to meet the office workers piling out of the pubs and crossing the road without looking after having a liquid lunch to help them make it through the day. I keep an eye out for the usual hazards: Blind guy? Check. Old woman in one of those electric carts? Check. Black Labrador left to wander the town and poop in the neighbours garden while his owner goes to work? Check.

This entire town is basically a hill built on top of a load of other hills. It's a nightmare to drive around. I genuinely wonder why people decided to found a town here. But then I remember that the inhabitants of this town are notoriously thick. Like, marry their cousins thick. That would explain a lot, come to think of it.

I drive for ten minutes, taking care not to hit any pedestrians or graze a cyclist and the tester tells me to pull over. It's time for the manoeuvres. Hill Start! Three point turn! Reverse around a corner! The last to these is something I've never seen anyone actually do except during the test. I manage to do these OK. No one dies at any rate.

I feel giddy as we head back to the test centre. I may actually have done it! I have driven competently for thirty minutes! Let's see that guy fail me now.

We arrive back at the centre and head back inside to his office. Unfortunately, he drones, I have been unsuccessful.

Sweet and Sour Baby Jesus! What's a guy got to do to pass this bloody thing?