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?

The Blind Date.

Bit of background on this one: It's based on something that I actually witnessed in Dada restaurant on South William Street the week before Christmas. Sitting beside our table was a couple clearly having the worst date imaginable. The reference to Battlestar Galactica in the story is a direct quote from what I overheard as they ate.  The food there is amazing by the way. Well worth a visit if you're in Dublin.

Isabelle arrived early at the Moroccan restaurant and was shown to her table by the waiter. It was a freezing cold Saturday afternoon so she had sensibly dressed in as many layers as possible. Her fingers fumbled nervously with the buttons of her jacket and she realised that her throat had gone as dry as the Sahara. It wasn’t even a real date and she was beginning to panic as if she was a fourteen year old again. She took a small mirror from her purse and checked her reflection to make sure her eye-shadow had stayed where she had put it a half hour before. It was fine. But maybe she should fix that massive glob of eyeliner hanging off her eyelash? She took a tissue from her bag and delicately removed it. All was well with the world. She could relax now that she wasn’t completely hideous, well except for those massive bags under her eyes.  

The waiter brought over a jug of water with a sprig of mint floating inside it. She watched as he filled her glass. Isabelle took a generous gulp as soon as his back was turned to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She should never have agreed to meet this guy but the girls in the office were insistent. He was lovely they insisted. He’d be a good match for her they said and besides, she hadn’t had any interest from a man in forever and she wasn’t getting any younger. Days of berating from her colleagues had eventually broken down her defences and she’d eventually agreed and made the effort to dress up to try and break her cold streak. It would allow her some peace from the constant nagging.

A man entered the restaurant and looked around slowly. The place was practically empty with just a couple and their friend playing catch up in the far corner so it didn’t take long for him to conclude that she was his date. He walked over and looked her up and down:

"You Isabelle?” he asked.

“Yes. You’re Brian?”

“I suppose so.”

He took off his long black leather coat, exposing an unwashed black hoodie and a slight beer gut.

“What sort of food they sell here?” asked Brian.

“It’s Moroccan food. I heard it was good.” said Isabelle, defensively.

“Moroccan? Like Falafel? Fecking hate it. Foreign muck.”

Warning lights stared flashing inside Isabelle’s head: “No, like tagines and cous-cous. That kind of thing.”

“I don’t know what those are, but I’ll give them a try.” said Brian, trying to show that he was open minded.

Thirty seconds in and this is already not going well. thought Isabelle.

Brian sat down without another word and studied the menu. Isabelle did likewise, trying not to make eye contact in the hope that the date ended as quickly as possible. Brian kept looking up from the menu and staring at her chest before returning to studiously srcutinising the document as if the secrets to eternal life were contained therein. It made her feel extremely uncomfortable. She decided not to have a starter.

The waiter returned and asked for their order.

Isabelle had barely gotten a syllable out when Brian interrupted her;

“Yeah” he said.  “I’ll have the Chicken tagine.”

Isabelle ordered a lamb dish and searched her mind for possible conversation topics. Brian stopped staring at her chest for a fifth of a nanosecond and said:

“You know, you look a lot like Sharon from Battlestar Galactica. Do you watch it?”

Isabelle panicked internally: What’s a Battlestar Galactica? “I’ve never seen it.” She said finally.

“Really?” said Brian in shock.  “Well, that’s a complement. She’s like the second hottest chick in it.”

“Second hottest?” queried Isabelle.

“Yeah, but I mean, the hottest is number six. Tricia Helfer. But she’s completely smoking. Like, She was a model, I think.”

“Oh. That’s interesting.” said Isabelle, without any enthusiasm.

The waiter arrived with their food and they busied themselves eating. Brian ate like the food was in danger of going stale, particles of couscous flew in every direction.

“This has got raisins in it.” announced Brian.

“It said so on the menu.” advised Isabelle.

“Those things give me wind. I’ll be farting like a trooper if I eat them.”

“Nice to know.”

“Well, I don’t want to embarrass myself…you know…later.” Brian smirked.

Crap! Does he think this is going well? Is he expecting sex? Doesn’t he realise that this is the most awkward date ever? thought Isabelle.

She returned to her lamb and finished her plate. The food was great at least.

“We getting dessert?” said Brian.

Isabelle thought long and hard. She’d sneaked a peek at the menu earlier. The idea of a white chocolate cheesecake or Apple and Banana fritters was tempting but she’d rather get out of here.

“Sorry, not me. I’ve watching my figure.”

“I can understand why you’d do that. I’m doing it as well.” Brian smirked again.

Isabelle’s skin crawled.

Brian stood up and went over to the bar. He asked for the bill and was handed a slip of paper.

“Here Isabelle!” He shouted after he had read it. “Your half comes to twelve euro.”

Isabelle took the required amount from her purse and handed it to the waiter.

“I need to go to the bathroom before we leave. Meet you back here when I’ve pushed one out?” asked Brian.

“Sure.” replied Isabelle.

Brian walked down to the back of the restaurant where the toilets were. As soon as Brian was out of sight she grabbed her coat, ran for the door and didn’t look back. Those bitches in the office were going to get a piece of her mind on Monday morning.

Convention Preparation: Part Three of Three.

OK, so it’s time for the final part of convention preparation:What to do at the con itself.

Convention Etiquette.

I covered basic hygiene last week so I’ll assume you’re washed and dressed appropriately.

You’re going to have to queue, sometimes for hours, to get into the more popular panels. Be nice, don’t cut the queue, don’t break wind in the line and nerve gas the people around you and please, no shoving.

Treat everyone like you’d want to be treated and make the effort to talk to people. You’d be amazed at the conversations you’ll strike up if you make the effort. Even if you’re a bit of a loner socially (and many of us are) or at the con on your own I’d strongly urge you to make the effort. Remember, you have at least one thing in common with the stranger beside you: your shared love of pop culture. There’s a conversation starter right there. 

We’re in a connected world and the online fandom can sometimes breed a bit on anger in people. You may run into people you’ve crossed swords with on a message board in the past. It happens. Resist the urge to smash your pint glass in their stupid faces, I don’t care if they insulted Joss Whedon or committed another heinous crime: leave it alone. You will be thrown out of the con or arrested.

You may run into guests outside of the convention. Remember to give them their space. Don’t rush over to them in the Indian restaurant down the street and demand they sign your chest or speak to them while they’re taking a dump. Both of these are things I have seen happen.

Having said that, if they’re holding court in the hotel bar, get in there and buy them a drink! They’re regular people too. You may be surprised what you have in common.

Attending panels.

This is the fun stuff right here, it’s one of the major attractions of attending any convention. You get to sit in a room and hear someone whose work you adore just talk for an hour. The best panels I have attended are hours I will remember forever. (e.g. Veronica Mars panel at SDCC in 2006.) 

There’ll usually be a Q & A session at the end. Have your burning questions ready. You’ll usually be only able to ask one as time is always against you. Keep it short and sweet. Sometimes someone else will have asked your question already, have a back up prepared and written down somewhere just in case.

Oh and don’t be the guy AT EVERY CONVENTION I’VE EVER BEEN TO who asks the voice actor “What would happen if (cartoon character A) and (cartoon character B) went to a restaurant and didn’t get what they ordered.” Voice actors hate these questions. In fact, if you asked one what was the question they’d least like to be asked it would probably be one of these types of question. (Someone asked this to Gary Chalk (Voice of Optimus Prime) at a con I attended a few years back and got that exact answer.)

Also DO NOT ask an actor if they’ve read slash fiction involving characters they’ve played. They haven’t. Most of them have no idea it even exists. (This was also asked of Gary Chalk at the con in the UK I attended. He was asked it at a Canadian convention the next year as well.)  

Signings.

Many cons put a limit of the amount of things you can get signed. Three or four things is usually the maximum allowed. There are lots of other people in the line so be considerate of them and the wrist of the writer or actor who is doing the signing.

Some people will charge for a signed photo, its how many jobbing actors help pay the mortgage. You’ll usually be informed in advance by the con organisers if it’s the case. Most actors in my experience will usually be ok with getting a photo taken with you though.

Buying stuff!

Also a major attraction of attending a con in person. Online shopping is fun but you can’t beat the feeling of finding at item you really wanted in the flesh (as it were).

Sometimes there’ll be con exclusive items (toys, limited edition art prints etc). These can be worth getting but they’ll occasionally be pricey. Depending on the item there may be an aftermarket value so buying a spare for Ebay can be worth your while. (SDCC convention exclusives can go for four to five times their retail price, depending on the item).

Make a shopping list of what you really want to get to help you budget. Get your list done and everything after that is gravy.

You should be prepared to bargain if possible. Some dealers won’t do it. Many will. Shop around. But remember that rare items will go quickly. The last hour of a convention is a good time to do some shopping. The dealers want to bring as little as possible home with them. Getting fifty percent knocked off something is not uncommon if you can haggle. 

Buying artwork from artists is also possible. Sketches can run you anything from €10 to €100, depending on if it’s a head sketch or a full figure. It’s a great way of having a unique item that you can get framed and hang on the wall of your man cave / hovel.

Some artists will be selling the original artwork from comics they’ve worked on. These can cost anything from €40 to a few thousand a page. The higher prices are usually commanded by “Splash page” images (i.e. a single image of a famous character or characters) or comic covers. Expect to pay less for storytelling pages with lots of smaller panels.

You can often walk away with a decent page of published artwork from a top tier comic for €200 to €300.

 
Getting your luggage / purchases home.

Some cons (particularly ones that deal heavily in toys) in the USA will have a Fed-Ex or DHL desk on site that will allow you to send stuff home directly. It’s usually expensive but you’re paying for the convenience.

You can always post packages home from a nearby post office as well. Chances are you’ll make it home before the parcel does.

Book an extra bag in for the return journey in advance if you are planning on getting a lot of stuff. It’s cheaper than showing up at the airport with the extra bag.

That’s it, that’s all I can think of off-hand! I’d be happy to take further questions via the comments or facebook if you have any.

Convention Preparation! Part Two of Three.

Hopefully the three people reading this found last week's post to be interesting. Today I'll cover accommodation and personal matters.

Accommodation.

Unless you’re planning on buying a copy of Spider-man number 1 then this is probably going to be one of your biggest single expenses. There are ways of getting this figure down but they aren’t pretty.

Many cons are held in hotels or in convention centres connected to hotels. These are usually your best bet for accommodation. Reduced room rates are generally offered to attendees and these can be good value they often throw in free parking or Wi-Fi as well.

Another reason to stay in the con hotel is that there’s also a bit more of a buzz around the con location with attendees and guests often mingling in the bar into the small hours of the morning. UK and Irish cons are really good for this kind of thing in my experience. Go on, have a drink with your favourite cast member of Doctor Who. It’s worth paying for that isn’t it?

Sharing a room with another attendee can bring down the cost but ideally make sure you know your roommate. I’ve heard horror stories about people being left in the lurch by randomers they’ve agreed to share a room with at a convention. (Room service they didn’t order, breakages, being locked out of the room and forced to sleep in the hall etc).

Most conventions will be held in a city centre or within a short bus journey of same so you’ll have other options if you want to spend less on your place to stay. Tripadvisor is your friend, or ask someone with local knowledge.

As regards SDCC, Hotel rooms in San Diego can run on the expensive side though many hotels offer reduced convention rates. These reduced rates will still run you around $150 a night or more and they’re as hard to get as tickets for the convention itself. This year’s allocation was offered via the comic con website and is gone already.

Expect to pay $200 a night for a standard (i.e. clean and not rat infested) room at SDCC. Three star hotels in NYC will run you around the same price but there’s many other options to get those costs down if needs be. Such as staying away from the convention and using the subway to get around.  

If going to SDCC, try to get a hotel on one of the convention organised bus routes. The buses run through the night from the convention centre to the hotels and are a safe way to get around. I’ve never experienced any trouble on them no matter what time I got one. Most of the convention approved hotels are within walking distance of the con as well and San Diego is reasonably safe even at night.

Personal matters.

The usual tips for travelling in any city apply: Don’t look too much like a tourist or leave your bag hanging off the back of your chair. Try avoid any areas where membership of a gang is a prerequisite.

Now, this next part isn’t addressed to you, don’t be insulted. But….there is always, ALWAYS some people at every con I’ve been to that smells like Satan’s armpit. These people (again, not you) clearly didn’t like the price of the hotels and decided that sleeping in a dumpster was the way to go.

There’s probably a shower in your hotel. Use it at least once a day. They have unlimited hot water. You have no excuse: SHOWER!!!!!  No amount of deodorant or eau de toilette will cover up your stink after standing in line for hours on end if you haven’t had a shower. (Though a good deodorant is also necessary. Roll on ones work best. Body spray cracks under the pressure.)

Also, brush your teeth and use mouthwash, you may end up chatting to Stan Lee or someone equally as famous. You do not want your breath to stink like a horses’ hairy hole. 

What should I bring to the con with me?

Firstly, bring a backpack, one you can carry comfortably for hours. It'll be extremely handy and will allow you to have you hands free. Your backpack should contain:

Food and water. Nothing too crazy. Just a bottle or two of water and something to graze on. It’s often difficult to find time to get food if you have a full itinerary and on site food provision at cons is stupidly expensive (think airport prices.) and usually rancid.

Extra bags. Plastic bags are necessary if you’re planning on buying merchandise. If you’re thinking of getting a lot of stuff or something particularly grandiose then pack one of those massive bags that Toy’s R Us give out when you buy something there or even one of those IKEA blue bags.

Camera. Holy cow! That’s (insert famous person name here)! I really wish I had a decent camera to take a once in a lifetime picture…

Seriously, photo opportunities will happen. Be prepared to capture them.

Batteries. For your camera.

Money and credit card.

Baby wipes. Yes, Really! You may break out in a cold sweat at certain times. Have something to clean yourself off with.

Dress comfortably for the con if you can. You’ll be standing for long periods in queues etc and will probably walk quite a bit to get to panels and on the trading floor if it’s a bigger show. I've heard of people losing several pounds at SDCC due to the amount of walking that needs to be done to get around the convention centre. Hence why you should bring water and why people get really sweaty.

 

If you're cosplaying, well...good luck.

Next Week: At the convention!