My Comic Report

I had promised to blog about my sadness at not going to this year's San Diego Comic-Con.  Matt and I recently discussed how it probably will be years before we go back, since it's not a great place to bring young kids (too many people, not enough little kid stuff to do).  We took advantage of Romy's portability two summers ago and went, me wearing her in a Moby Wrap the whole time (plug for Moby Wrap: screw Baby Bjorns!  Moby wraps are the best carriers ever!).  Admittedly, the Con has decreased in fun as the crowds have increased.  The first time I went was for my honeymoon eight(!!!) years ago.  It was so much fun, and we pretty much got into every panel we wanted to see (my favorite that year was watching the Futurama cast talk to each other as though they were cartoon characters).  The next time we went was two or three years later, and by then things had gone crazy.  It became standard that huge movie stars would make appearances (thanks for waving, Johnny Depp!), and, according to the Con newspaper, the crowd size increased by something like 50,000.  Last year, the number of attendees was literally double that of the first year we went: 75,000 to 150,000.  It's crap like that that makes me not so sad I won't be there.  But it's crap like this that makes me sad:

Alex Winter and I share stories of our children.  Not really.

Ah, the memories.  Plus, this year OF COURSE the guys from Ghost Adventures are going to be there.  It's probably better I don't meet them because it would be a goober fest on my end, and then I wouldn't like them as much.  Or something like that.  Meeting people you love and watch on a regular basis usually ends in disappointment.  Not always.  Take this moment on the convention hall floor when I ran into Joss Whedon. 

Yes, that's me crying.  See?  Not a disappointment at all.
Moments like that don't only happen at the big Con.  Chicago has a wimpy Con every year (which they seem to be trying to make more Comic-Con-esque.  This year's line-up is oddly impressive), and Matt has refused to go for a while.  I told him we wouldn't make it back to San Diego for a long time, so we might as well enjoy it.  And enjoy we did last year.  Here's the highlight:

Me and Steve Sanders.  I mean Ian Ziering.  Who I referred to as Steve.  He had to correct me.

This year promises Peter Tork, a huge Buffy cast group (that I will watch from afar.  I don't need to ruin that), and, drum roll please, just back from hunting the purple buffalo is Noah Hathaway!  Don't say "who?"  Okay, if you don't know, he was Atreyu in the Neverending Story.  He's the one that got away.  Meaning, he was supposed to be at a con years ago, and while Matt and I were there they announced he wouldn't be.  I was crushed.  But will I have the nerves to go up and meet him this year?  Stay tuned!