If you're snickering at me by now after these confessions...well, go ahead and snicker! I have long since ceased to worry about what people think about my interests; it's part of what makes me me, and it makes me happy. I don't think it matters to anyone else what I like, as long as I remain a functioning adult with a stable family and a healthy friend system. I am so grateful that I have a wide variety of friends; some keep me grounded in reality, while others feed my manias and happily join me on the higher, stranger frequencies of the Spectrum of Nerdery.
It's not surprising my brain is wired this way. I was raised by a dyed-in-the-wool, original-generation Trekkie mother. My siblings and I grew up watching not just every Star Trek series on the air (or on our VHS collection!), but also every science-fiction series that made it onto network television (no matter how cheap, bizarre, or short-lived it was...rest in peace, Starman and Knight Rider and especially Max Headroom!). And beginning when I was in high school, my mom started taking me along on her twice-yearly trips to Denver StarCon, a long-time Denver science-fiction convention.
While Star Trek was the convention's main focus (I eventually got to see--and occasionally meet!--every actor from then-current Star Trek series, and much of the original cast as well), there were also screenings of exclusive trailers and behind-the scenes footage from upcoming films. This was way back in the pre-Internet days, so this stuff really was exclusive. It was thrilling for me to "get the scoop" on these movies & TV shows well before the general public. I have other great memories from those days, too: seeing the original cast of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and later talking to them outside the hotel after the convention; pushing through a couple of security guards to get Tom Cruise's autograph (really!); cheering all the cosplayers (as they are now called) at the annual Costume Ball; and staying at the convention late into the night, watching soon-to-be-aired episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, or the director's cut of Aliens. Good times, all!
The last time I attended the Denver convention, I was a college student visiting home for the weekend with one of my roommates. After that visit, Life began to intrude more and more; I married, worked full-time, moved a few times, had a few kids, and transitioned into the life of a full-time mom and part-time piano teacher. You know how it is. But I still found time in all of that to become attached to Game of Thrones, the Mistborn book series, the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and most Joss Whedon television shows (sorry, Dollhouse), among many other things. I even found opportunities to write some fiction; several years ago, when the girls were very young, I submitted a short story to a local science fiction writing contest, hosted by the local Tucson Comic-Con. To my delight, I won third place in this contest, and was invited to the Tucson convention as a free guest. Even though this was a fairly small convention, focused mostly on books, it was still really fun to visit and mingle with other like-minded souls. It got me thinking (and wondering) if I could scrape up enough money and time to visit a larger convention at some point.
For years, the pragmatic side of my brain was at war with this dream. Our family budget is always a little tight, and I felt guilty spending a bunch of money on a big solo trip that no one else would get to enjoy. However, after Nathan was able to take a big trip to Washington, D.C. a few years back, I informed him that he "owed" me a vacation of my very own. Budget concerns aside, I suspected that the San Diego convention would always be a pipe dream anyway, because of the sheer difficulty in scoring a pass. I've heard of people who have tried to buy passes for several years in a row with no success. The flood of online orders is crazy, chaotic and somewhat random; only one out of every twenty people who attempt registration are able to get passes. As much as I wanted to attend San Diego's convention, I knew in my heart that I'd probably have to settle for one of the other conventions instead (which wouldn't be a bad consolation prize; I've heard the Salt Lake City convention is a blast. Plus, if I went there, I would be able to attend with family!).
And yet, I thought...what would it hurt to try and register for San Diego? There's always a chance, however small...and I would definitely regret it if I never made the attempt. So, the morning of general registration (it was a Saturday in February; the registration takes place several months before the actual convention), I woke up and set my web browser to access the Comic-Con ticket portal as soon as it opened. Then, I went to my daughter's soccer game and vowed to think no more of the matter until I was able to get online. The convention server is usually flooded on registration day, and hopeful applicants are booted out of the system constantly. If this happened to me during my daughter's soccer game, I vowed to not be upset. In fact, I would begin planning a different "mom trip" for later in the year (I considered BYU's Education Week, or possibly even the Salt Lake City convention).
Imagine my surprise when, after returning from Aurora's soccer game and idly checking the computer, I waltzed right through the web portal and onto Comic-Con's website. I was so flustered I almost missed my chance to register! I had originally planned to attend the convention on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. By the time I got to the purchasing phase, Saturday was already sold out. A slight bummer, but not a deal-breaker by any means. Thursday and Friday were available, so I pounced! In just a few short minutes, the Comic-Con passes were mine! Victory!
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| Look, my official badge! No, I do not watch The Walking Dead; all the badges looked like this. |
I'd originally wanted my mother to come with me; after all, she was the one who raised me to be a convention-goer! However, I needed her individual registration number in order to register, and sadly I wasn't able to get hold of her in time. However, I decided that a solo trip would still be fun. Later that day, I called my mom to apologize for not getting her a ticket, only to be told that I'd be splitting a hotel room with her anyway, since she and my dad would be taking a road trip to California that summer. It was exciting to know I'd still be seeing them in California, if only for a little while.
My emotions were all over the place that day. First, I was giddy with joy at the prospect of attending. Then I became overwhelmed with terror at the thought of finding a cheap hotel in San Diego for Comic-Con weekend (a nigh-impossible task; all hotels in the area routinely hike their prices for that weekend). Then I felt drained and overwhelmed; how was I to navigate the convention craziness? How would I get around? What would I eat? How much money would I need to bring? I started frantically reading blog posts and advice columns all across the Internet to answer my many questions.
So thus began my journey towards San Diego Comic-Con; once just a foolish dream, now mere months away from becoming a reality! Of course, there was a lot of life to live between the time I bought tickets and the time I arrived at the convention center; there was still a whole semester of school to get through, and most of summer vacation as well. Chances are, you've already read about most of it in the blog already! The convention was to be the last big event of summer; I would be arriving home from California the night before my girls' first day of school. It was to be a whirlwind weekend, and I knew it would be exhausting, but I was so excited all the same. It was time to nerd up!
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