I won’t go into the specifics of the pub-crawl-to-end-all-pub-crawls, the world famous Isotope Tiki Tour. I will say however, that I made it to the end, holy crap! That’s never happened in the past, but I have achieved veteran status and even made it to an after party. Thank you moderation and thank you strong liver.

Saturday began with this sound to shock me out of 4 hours of what resembled sleep. I instantly had a flash nightmare about being spotted and surrounded by guards because I wasn’t wearing the right camo pajamas. Turns out I was just lying as comfortable as I could be on a couch of my good friend and fellow member of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Josh Richardson. As it turns out Josh, being a high priest of the temple of video games, has that sound effect as an alarm clock. It took about four or five taps at the snooze button before we woke up.

Still wearing my suit and tie from the Tiki Tour, I made the walk of shame at 10am back to my truck which was 12 blocks away. Thankfully, my truck had no tickets, flat tires, or shattered windows. In true nomad fashion, I changed in my truck (doing a double take at the coming traffic before swapping boxers). Now in a fresh suit with a new tie, I brushed my teeth on the side walk. Cars whizzing by and people out and about must have looked at me and thought, “wow, that is a well-dressed homeless guy.” Bright as a daisy, I tramped on over to the Isotope then embarked for the con.

It’s always a great experience to enter a convention center and hear the roar of thousands of comics fans and think, my people! I had an absolute blast at the Writer’s Old Fashioned table. Dishing out books and handing out “Ramen Old Fashioned“ our group‘s gift to a world in search of a cheap food substitute. I didn’t walk away with any sweet buys but I did leave with a ton of awesome memories. That sounds cheesy but I’m fucking serious as a heart attack here.

I saw people from work and my town that I had no idea were into comic books, and have been since before I was born. It was the realization that you really don’t know who shares the same kind of love for comics as you do.

I even got to met a Spider-Man with a British accent.

Who knew that a weekend consisting of drinking, poor diet, and no sleep, would make me sick. Towards the end of the Con I started to feel really haggard, but it was all ignored when I got a phone call, like the Bat signal, from James Sime. He was in trouble, the Isotope party of the year was about to start and the store was no where near ready. Ditching the Con early, I raced over to the Isotope, forgetting all the shitty feelings going on in my body. Things were chaotic and all in the air but under Simes guidance, his baby, and my second home: the Isotope, was ready for a horde of people in celebration of comics (including Brian Azzarello and Dave Johnson). In the calm before the storm, I started to get the cold sweats. Feeling achy all over and staring at my orange juice in a beautiful Isotope exclusive event pint glass, I realized; ‘holy shit buddy, you better sit this one out’.

As I drove home I felt all my bodies defenses just drop and die. Feeling like crap, the only thing I was thinking about was the days when societies made sacrifices for rain or for a bountiful harvest. By getting sick and sitting this party out, I was making the sacrifice the night needed to be off the walls crazy. I was also thinking that next year I’m going to tear Wonder Con 2010 a new one!

Related posts:

1. Rain, Bloody Marys, and Comics
2. WonderCon 2008: Link or You’ll Miss It!
3. Holiday Meeting; Old Fashioned Style