Alone in a Crowd: A San Diego Comic Con Field Report

ComicsXF’s own Sean Dillon attended this year’s San Diego Comic Con. This is their field report.

TUESDAY

8:00 AM EST

Playing: Heart First Aid Kit (Grace Petrie & the PC Brigade), Queer as Folk (Grace Petrie)

There’s an odd anxiety building inside of me. I’m currently sitting in JFK waiting for my flight to San Diego. I’ve been to California before. Once for the sole purpose of being born, then again the summer before quarantine. Oddly enough, it was during the week of Comic Con (though I did not attend). I had been to many a convention prior to this year’s San Diego Comic Con. New York Comic Con, Conneticon, Flame Con, Ucon at UConn. But I’ve never worked at a convention. I’ve always been a guest.

What exactly am I supposed to do?

I’ve not much experience with being press. I’ve done a few interviews in my time, though largely via email. But how do you cover an event like Comic Con? Especially in a year like this. As of last week, both the WGA and the Screen Actors Guild are on strike for a number of reasons, not the least of which being billionaires are getting uppity about having to actually pay people. AI is taking away people’s jobs. I’m a media critic, I should know how shitty that is.

Additionally, there’s a sense of a sea change in the air. Various critics who I’ve worked for and with are moving on to other industries. I myself am trying to get work as an editor (or, at the very least, an assistant editor) or a teacher (or, at least, a sub. That said, I’m not going back to middle school). I’ve had many conversations about the point of media in a world that is on fire. About the need for people like me.

And often, the answers we’ve come to have been lacking. I love the work, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think I could see myself fully moving on to other ventures. But at the same time, there’s not much of a paycheck here. The highest check I’ve gotten for a writing gig wasn’t even enough to pay a month’s rent. Barely enough to pay for food for a week.

And yet, I will always take the gigs I get seriously. Even when I’m taking the piss, there has to be a point. Which is a problem when one thinks they’re going to immediately fuck up. I’ve asked friends who have done cons for any recommendations they might have about working as press. The summation of their advice has been “Don’t kill yourself.” The boss has told me there aren’t any specific panels I need to cover.

I have plans to meet people. Debts I owe to family and friends. And I aim to settle them all, one way or another. Also, hopefully, see Barbie. Since I can’t do both, I already have tickets to see Oppenheimer in NYC on 70mm IMAX. But seeing Barbie in California just seems right.

11:52 PM PST

Playing: Uptown Goof (ProZD)

I am feeling sick because I decided to walk around San Diego without any water. I will survive.

WEDNESDAY

3:05 PM PST

Playing: The Departed (Various Artists)

In retrospect, it should have been obvious that it was going to be hot as balls. Once again, my decision to not bring water has ended with me getting my ass royally kicked by the heat. I have a water bottle on hand, but I had to use tap because the hotel I’m staying at up and decided to make my life hell and not have room service, non-tap water or even an ice machine. That’s what happens when you go to a $300-a-night hotel (that decided to up its bill to $400 because Comic Con).

Further complicating matters is the lack of a coherent schedule for the convention. There are some events I’ve been informed are occurring in an hour, but the staff has noted that the convention won’t start until 6 p.m. It would be really, really nice if there was a coherent and sane schedule. Something that highlighted what the hours are. This is unsurprising given my experience with getting badges, wherein simple questions like “Did I get press registration” or “Where is my badge” are met with silence.

The good news is that my migraine appears to be going down. Turns out people need food in order to function. And I was lucky to find a rather good steakhouse across the street from the convention center. They also were able to fill up my water bottle with actual, proper water rather than the tap I had previously been using.

A highlight of the pre-convention time was encountering a man from Greenpeace. As with every member of Greenpeace I’ve met, he had the earnest disposition of a man trying to push a boulder up the hill after it’s rolled over him multiple times. He noted the various provisions done to save the oceans from plastic waste and cruel fishermen. He notably skipped over the impact of Donald Trump on the ocean, highlighting Obama’s helpful efforts. He then asked if I could support the cause with a monthly fee of $25 (since Greenpeace is a nonprofit and not in the pocket of corporations or government). I sadly declined the offer, as I’m currently between jobs. That said, once my laptop is in Wi-Fi, I will support various petitions going about. Maybe even provide a less than $25 donation. They could use the help.

As I walked the halls of the convention center before they opened, I came across a blood drive asking for help. Were I not working as press, I would’ve donated some blood. Alas, I need to keep my faculties as sharp as possible. Though the offers available of board games, Peanuts tote bags and other such things were tempting.

While waiting for the convention to begin, I met noted queer icon Rizzo the Rat and got my photo taken with him.

8:41 PM PST

Playing: Ladies of the Canyon (Joni Mitchell) 

Wednesday night, in many regards, is one of the slower nights of Comic Con. The panels aren’t happening quite yet, there’s only three hours to look at everything and people are rather tired from flying into the convention. It’s hectic, but not in a way that reveals anything.

That is, save for the size of the crowd. As I was going on my odyssey through San Diego yesterday, many of the locals I engaged with highlighted a sense that the convention wouldn’t be as packed as it was in previous years. They referenced the significant drop in participation in the previous year’s Comic Con. And yet, the crowds were still as large as one would expect. It felt like an average year at Comic Con.

Absent, however, was the implication of the strike. When I entered and exited the San Diego Conference Center, I saw no protesters. Perhaps they’ll be here tomorrow when the crowds will be larger and there’ll be more to do. But the lack of SAG and WGA members picketing the event seems odd. (As was the lack of Christian protesters decrying the Sodomic nature of this event. Though I did run into a booth that was selling the complete works of L Ron Hubbard, though not his collaboration with Edgar Winter.)

Among the highlights of the convention were meeting both Michael Molcher and Chloe Maveal at the Rebellion booth. They’re extremely lovely people who deserve all the success in the world. I got my brother a signed copy of the first two books of Sunstone. I saw Ultraman in person. And I did a lot of walking.

THURSDAY

10:25 AM PST

Playing: Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood

So apparently I’ve been spending the past couple of days dealing with food poisoning. At first, I thought I simply had dehydration or hadn’t eaten. But given that I was still dealing with constant diarrhea and a constant sense that I’m about to puke, the only sensible conclusion is that the >$10 burger I got from In-N-Out on Tuesday caused me to have food poisoning. As such, I had to cut down on my plans for the day. I probably won’t be attending the premiere of Radiant Is the Blood of the Baboon Heart. (I’ll see how I feel when I get closer to the time.) I definitely won’t be seeing the midnight screening of Dirty Pair: Affair of Nolandia, much to my chagrin.

Most of the morning was spent wandering the halls looking for the press room, information no one seemed to have any awareness of. It seems one of those obvious things to just tell the people who work here where the press room is rather than just leave it up in the air. But I did find it in the end.

That said, when I did find it, much to my delight, I met up with friend and fellow critic Tiffany Babb. We talked briefly about the convention and the strike. In many regards, the strike feels less like an army in the wings and more like an absence. A lack of something. One is used to seeing the whole of the convention abuzz with press for Alien or Barbie or whatever movie is coming soon. Instead, the absence is silence. The disquieting silence of entropy.

1:00 PM PST

Playing: REWRITE THE WORDS AGAIN (Jordaan Mason & Their Orchestra)

It is extremely tempting to play the Goofus and Gallant game when it comes to the Between Two Toms panel, wherein Toms King and Taylor discuss their current work. After all, my aesthetics lean heavily toward one and diametrically opposed to the other. Indeed, my impression from the panel certainly did nothing to dissuade my initial impressions of the two. In some regards, the double act only reveals the discrepancies between them.

And yet, there’s nevertheless something charming about watching two comics professionals shoot the shit with their beleaguered artists. It’s not as in-depth and focused as one would like (the mod bailing immediately after walking on stage is telling), but there’s nevertheless a sense of people who generally get on with one another doing so in a panel environment with the occasional ribbing. (A highlight of this being King asking artist Nicola Scott if she’s ever received a script that made her go “No” before Taylor walked off stage with his head down in shame.) Part of me wishes it was Mitch (Gerads), Doc (Shaner), Tom (King), Clay (Mann), and Clayton (Cowles). But for what it was, it wasn’t that bad.

Also, wow, did they just snub Danger Street, the best book currently on comics stands?

3:32 PM PST

Playing: Pans vs Fans panel (Tiffany Babb, Shaenon Garrity, Zack Quaintance, Meg Lemke) 

And once again, I’m thinking about the nature of criticism. As I’m writing this, Douglas Wolk and Tiffany Babb are talking about the ethics of writing about works by people you know. Specifically with regard to how it impacts the bias of the critic. There’s a degree to which this is difficult. As I’ve talked previously, I have my own biases. I have written about works by people I know or who have paid me to write about their work.

I’ve tried to be honest in my criticism. I’ve highlighted the aspects of the text that work and don’t work. But that connection nevertheless remains. How many people do I know moving into the realm of fiction while I still remain in criticism? I’ve written a book, but it’s a mess that I’m not sure if I can recommend. I feel that way about a lot of my work. There are some exceptions (I still like the America essay I did for PanelXPanel, and my work on Who Watches the Watchmen is all killer, no filler), but I don’t like looking back at what I’ve done.

Maybe that’s why I don’t like having old photos of me lying around.

3:55 PM PST

Playing: Pans vs Fans panel (Tiffany Babb, Shaenon Garrity, Zack Quaintance, Meg Lemke)

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FRIDAY

2:03 PM PST

Playing: O Lucky Man! (Alan Price)

Shortly after bailing on the sheer nothing that was the Dawn of DC panel (Highlights include Damian Wayne playing for a soccer team and the female Hush being called “Shush”), I came across this convolution of Hawkmen.

And if that doesn’t sum the whole experience up, I don’t know what will.

My legs hurt, so I’m just going to rest for a bit until the Eisners.

10:43 PM PST

Playing: The Eisner Awards

By and large, the Eisners this year were a bit crap. Putting aside the various snubs and controversies, the nominees were largely either uninteresting or crap. There’s a degree to which the panel responsible for picking the nominees had several blind spots when it came to who should and should not be nominated. (Though it was nice to have Hannah Templar bring it up directly in her speech for Flung Out of Space [which is one of the greats, read it now].)

Among the most obvious snubs was that of 20th Century Men. For half a year, I (alongside Ritesh Babu for four of them) wrote about this fantastic book and all its implications. A true tour de force by two rising talents and a seasoned professional approaching his imperial phase. I loved this book dearly and want nothing more than for Deniz (Camp), Stipan (Morian) and Aditya (Bidikar) to have all the success in the world.

Still, I can’t be all doom and gloom for the Eisners. PanelXPanel won. PanelXPanel has been an institution for my entire time as a critic. Hassan gave me a chance with a little piece on a webcomic before indulging me on a monthly series of articles on Mister Miracle (most of which were never published in the magazine). Then I moved into writing complete essays alongside all the brilliant talent, both old and new. Hassan, along with Tiffany, helped hone my skills as a critic.

I actually had a conversation about this with one of my major influences, Elizabeth Sandifer. We were talking about a fellow critic who wasn’t that good. We noted his tendency toward doing structurally odd things (something I’m known to do) and noted that I actually grew out of doing those tricks for the sake of themselves. Without any reason. Where she had academia to force her to give the work meaning, I had Hass and Tiffany.

I will forever be grateful to them for that. And for introducing me to Ritesh Babu, Rasmus Skov Lykke, Harry Kassen, Sara Century, Greg Silber, Tara Marie and so many more. For bringing comics criticism up to the quality I always saw in it when reading the Mindless Ones and 4thletter. For engaging with works both old and new. For letting me get away with so much while also keeping my worst instincts in check. I thank you all.

You are all beautiful.

Bye now.

You are fabulous creatures, each and every one.

And I bless you. More life.

THE GREAT WORK BEGINS! 

SATURDAY

11:14 AM PST

Playing: Rumors (Fleetwood Mac)

I was reminded of what Steve Whitmire did to get fired off The Muppets and, subsequently, Rizzo to be retired. While the puppeteer wasn’t Steve, I’m still sad that Rizzo can no longer be considered a queer icon. So it goes.

Also, I’ve been fucked by tree law. So it goes.

1:44 PM PST

Playing: DSTLRY Panel (“Like all my work, it focuses on melancholy, despair and the end of things … Hooray!” — Ram V)

The coolest professionals I met at the convention are (in order of when I met them) Michael Molcher, Chloe Maveal, David Gerrold, Tate Brombal, Hannah Templar and Alex de Campi. All of these people are amazing, and you should give them a high-five if you ever meet them.

6:14 PM PST

Playing: The Winner Takes It All (ABBA), discordant sounds from the show floor (Rebellion/2000AD)

So it turns out that social anxiety doesn’t go away simply because you have a job. I spent a couple hours holed up in the press room upstairs for reasons both monetary and anxiety related. It turns out going to a convention for work doesn’t make having a sensory overload go away any more easily than not having a job and doing the same thing. And I spent a lot on a friend who I owe a lot to.

While there, I decided to watch a film I’d not seen but had heard people talk about: Lupin III: Green vs Red. While I have had an interest in the anime equivalent of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I mainly watched the ones people talked about (Mamo/Cagliostro/the Miyazaki episodes/The First. Also Cats Eye). But people don’t really engage with Green vs. Red. Which is a shame because I quite liked it from the way it plays with repeated animation to the use of voice actors throughout the piece never quite being right for anyone.

And to be fair, it’s an extremely odd movie about identity, the changing of times and the capricious nature of desire. There’s a hole in the heart of the world, and any attempt to fill it will result in catastrophe and ruin. It’s about a man who willingly allows himself to be consumed by an idea as it allows them to be their true selves. Even typing those words looks stupid.

Thinking about them, I am once again thinking about my friend Ritesh’s desire to not be consumed. To not be a struggling artist working paycheck to paycheck. I think about what Alex de Campi said about how the comics industry doesn’t have health care and she doesn’t want to do work that’s not worth her time, so she has a day job. (If I was being mean, I’d beat some superhero comic on the stands with a stick.)

Eventually, my anxiety about bothering people with whatever it was I was watching got the better of me, and I left to the show floor. I mean, why should they have to deal with the shit I watch? Now here I am, typing in the 2000AD booth as my feet begin to fall asleep and I slowly realize that I might have to use the bathroom again.

Nope. It was just gas.

8:24 PM PST

Playing: Angels in America (National Theatre Live)

That being said, having seen the Lupin film, I’m pretty sure I can now describe my gender identity as Kei from Dirty Pair disguising herself as Green Jacket Lupin III. Or maybe Lupin III disguising himself as Kei. Or both. Probably both. Being nonbinary is weird.

SUNDAY

5:08 PM PST

Playing: SOL A Self Banishment Ritual (Seeming)

I am once again typing at an airport. Considering it was the Sunday of the con, a lot of people were there. I met an old internet friend of mine, and we got obsessed with watching a quartet of Transformers transform and roll out. I saw Zack Quaintance again, and we talked about a lot of things involving the industry, including how mean people can be to the writers of work we don’t like. I said my goodbyes to Chloe Maveal and some bald bearded guy she was sitting with and she recommended I go see Dave McKean. When I did, we talked about Ian Sinclair and A Glass of Water. He’s such a charming guy.

I suppose that’s what I took away from the whole experience. It harkens to the conversation I had with the internet friend. We talked about someone who had burned both of us in different ways and concluded there was something in the work he did. But the problem is that he’s just an asshole. It’s so easy not to be an asshole. You can be critical, but you don’t have to be an asshole.

I turn back to the conversation with Zack, highlighting the work of Josh Williamson, a man I’ve had harsh words for. And yet, when I look back at the pieces I did, there’s a sense of shame to them. That I went too hard on things that didn’t deserve it. Not that I now like it, but more my approach is a bit mean.

I struggle with writing negative reviews without defaulting into the tried and true angry reviewer. In part, because that often sells. We’re reaching an exodus of comics criticism. PanelXPanel is over, various people are looking for an exit strategy, and I’m just tired. I can see the love in fandom. But it can’t sustain you when the rent’s due. I can’t argue that criticism has no impact on the world when Ben fucking Shapiro is doing the Channel Awesome bit. But I have to be more than just a critic. Just a writer.

Just an artist.

I suppose that’s what I got from the experience. If I’m being completely honest, it was a rough show for me. I was dealing with bodily issues throughout the whole affair, often running to and from the bathroom. Even now, I’m feeling queasy. I had a lot of fun at the event, but it did a lot to the body. If I saw this purely as an artistic journey, an experience for which the paycheck doesn’t matter, it’d be worth it. But the hotels overcharged (especially when the Wi-Fi went out and the lobby’s only response was a shrug and a “tough shit.”), the scope was overwhelming and I’m pretty sure I owe a lot of people money. And that’s the reality I live in.

I don’t want to leave a young corpse on a street corner somewhere. I want to be old and, if not dignified, at least interesting. This isn’t sustainable. I need a change.

Support my Patreon.

MONDAY

8:14 AM EST

Playing: The Birth Caul (Alan Moore), divorce lawyers i shaved my head (jordaan mason and the horse museum)

If I ever do this again, I’m doing it with other people.