San Diego Comic Con 2000, Part 2

Originally published August 25, 2000, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1397

Finishing up stuff that went on at San Diego…

I arrived on Saturday morning to discover a truly bizarre sight: Will Eisner, the Grand Old Man of the San Diego Con, being forbidden entrance to the dealer’s room by a security guard.

Understand, the guard was just doing his job. It wasn’t quite 10 AM yet, and the guard was under instructions that anyone not sporting a badge that said “Exhibitor” was to be sent up the escalator and around, or something like that. Eisner looked politely bemused while a rapidly increasing circle of fans (including myself) converged on the guard and said, “No, you don’t get it. This guy goes into the dealer’s room if he wants. This guy gets to go anywhere he wants at this convention.” A convention organizer showed up and got Eisner past the guard.

I comprehend the need for different types of badges. But the convention might want to consider creating some sort of “Omnibadge”… an All-Access pass, handed out as a courtesy to the kind of guests you just don’t want to see being hassled by guards who don’t know Julie Schwartz from Downtown Julie Brown. I’m thinking you give an Omnibadge pass to living legends such as Eisner (or Schwartz, for that matter), and/or convention Guests of Honor. And perhaps—as a matter of courtesy—any Golden or Silver age creator whom we’re still lucky enough to have with us who is willing to grace the convention with his or her presence. People who have earned the right to go everywhere because, without them, the industry itself wouldn’t be anywhere.

Just a thought.

* * *

So there I was, sitting at the Krause Table, chatting with some fans, and somehow or other the conversation turned to South Park. Even more specifically, the topic of “Timmy” came up. For those who haven’t been watching the series (which has undergone a major renaissance since the brilliant film) Timmy is a wheelchair-bound kid who is—as the kids indelicately put it—retarded. Indeed, Timmy set off one of the season’s most hilarious episodes when the teachers at South Park Elementary—refusing to acknowledge Timmy’s obvious problem—have him tested by an educational expert. The testing consists of the “expert” reading the entirety of The Great Gatsby to Timmy and then asking him trivia questions about it. Timmy proves incapable of answering, which is understandable considering that his vocabulary is, for the most part, limited to one word: His own name, spoken in varying degrees of volume. Timmy is promptly diagnosed as having Attention Deficit Disorder (A.D.D.) When Timmy is subsequently excused from homework, all the others kids announce they have A.D.D. as well. As a result, every kid in South Park gets medicated to such a degree that they’re hardly recognizable as themselves.

In any event, it was memorable. I keep waiting for them to do an episode where Timmy is trapped in a well and the gay dog has to get help. It’d be like Lassie on acid.

So, in any event… someone near the Krause table—maybe me, I don’t remember—suddenly shouted “Timmy!” in Timmy’s breathless, exuberant style. This prompted everybody in the area to start taking up the chant, in varying degrees of loudness. We found this rather amusing.

Twenty seconds later, a guy came down the aisle and shouted, “Timmy!” Instantly we chorused in response, over and over, “TIMMY!” thinking that he’d overheard us and wanted in on the gag. The man looked at us as if we were insane or—appropriately—retarded. Not taking his eyes off us, maybe to make sure we weren’t going to attack, he called, “Timmy!” once more. And before we could take up the chant again, a ten year old boy came trudging up the aisle and grumbled, “What is it, dad?” “You’re not supposed to go running ahead,” said Timmy’s dad, probably worrying that his son might run into strange people. The kind of people who might… oh, I dunno… mock a father who was trying to rein in his son.

I wanted to crawl under the table.

* * *

Adventures in line-standing: Anthony Head of Buffy was there, and a huge line was anticipated. Plus I was going to be otherwise engaged. However his appearance was being sponsored by Clay Moore (who’s sculpting the nifty-looking Buffy figures, including an upcoming “Giles” one), and I knew Clay from back in the day when he sculpted the J.J. Sachs figure for Randy Bowen. The thing is, my girlfriend Kathleen adores Head (and get your mind straight out of the gutter.) So I went to Clay and begged him for a favor. He came through and scored me a picture of Head made out to Kathleen.

Rumiko Takahashi proved more problematic. Shana wanted the Manga artist’s autograph for a friend, and I didn’t have an “in” with her handlers. There was nothing for it but to enter the raffle in hopes of getting a ticket for her autographing session. I lucked out and got one, but between my own signings and panel commitments, I had a half hour window of opportunity… which was quickly consumed standing in line. Fortunately enough a fan volunteered to get my stuff signed along with his (I forget his name; my sincere apologies if he’s reading this) and then he brought it to me at my panel.

There are some pros who seem to find it stylish to diss fans wholesale, as if they were to the man unkempt, nasty and self-centered. Well, this was just yet another instance of fans being helpful and cooperative, eager to do whatever they could to help pros meet their commitments. That type of fan far outweighs the ones who seem to get the most (negative) attention.

* * *

I attended the costume contest as I always do. The costume that seemed to make the biggest impression was a guy who came out dressed as Mighty Mouse and imitated, perfectly, the famed Andy Kaufman routine of lip synching to the Mighty Mouse theme.  He stood there, immobile, looking lost and even a bit intimidated, only to burst into a grin, throw wide one arm and mouth on cue, “Here I come to save the daaaay!” before lapsing back into his withdrawn state. He had such an impact that, when things got slow (or if there was a substandard costume) the crowd would shout, “Mouse! Mouse! Mouse!” imploring him to come back on stage to take a bow. He never did, which was smart. Always leave ’em wanting more.

* * *

I took great joy in running around and showing folks a photocopy of an illo I actually acquired at Dragon*Con. Present at Dragon*Con had been Powerpuff Girls artist Stephanie Gladden.  I asked her if it was possible for her to do a sketch of me incarnated as my new role model, Mojo Jojo. She did so, and brilliantly. What’s a little frightening to me is how little she had to do to my face to make me look like an animated character.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)