It Could Always Be Worse

Have you ever been to Star Trek Convention? How about a Comic Book Show or Sci-Fi Con?
Wizard Con? Dragon Con? I used to get paid to go to them- which, IMO, is the only way to travel when it comes to Cons.

I ran a comic-book shop back in the VCR days, and in the summer my boss would have me work at the bigger shows when he couldn't go himself or he just needed an extra hand- San Diego , Chicago, Javit's, Atlanta- all fun places...I did it part-time for a few years even after the store closed.
We sold bootlegs of old Japanese and Chinese cartoons and Kung-Fu flicks- we never sold Hollywood stuff and we never had any FBI trouble. Back then there was no 100+ station cable TV and all the Interweb had to offer was 28.8k dial-up, so it was pretty hard to get copies of old TV shows like Space Giants and Astroboy- which people wanted, god knows why.

One summer- 1994, I think it was- my boss sent me to Baltimore to work a Trekkie Con. It was in a nice hotel right on the Harbor- I drove up there with my old Honda loaded with Trek 'Bloopers' tapes, X-Files 'collector' bootlegs and grainy-ass Dr. Who serials - of course I was late and barely got set up in time for the opening of the show- in hindsight, I sure wished I'd scoped the room out before I unloaded my car.

I sat behind my booth and waited for the money to roll in- as I said, I have no idea why adults would spend $25 on what is obviously a home-made VHS copy of a Japanese children's cartoon but they did- and I waited.

When I was done with waiting, I waited some more.

Nobody was buying anything.

A pimply Klingon approached the table, looking for something:

"Hey, how ya doin'? Anything I can help you with? Be glad to play anything you wanna see...$25 bucks each, or 3 for $50...", I began my well-oiled spiel.

"Hmmm...grunt... tapes... umm...where?"

"Well, the Sci-Fi is over here- with the blue labels...anything in particular?"

"No.Yorg. Other tapes. Grunk.Where?"

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Klingon- you'll have to use complete sentences. What other tapes?"

The Klingon from Starship Oxy-10 gestured around the room. "Tapes. Like them."

I had no idea what the hell the kid was talking about- I hadn't had a chance to check out the competition yet. Since I wasn't selling a damned thing, I figured I'd better see what people were buying, so I tossed a tablecloth and a "Back in Ten" sign over my merchandise and made the rounds.

I wished I'd stayed home.

It was a Star Trek Sex Con. No kidding.

Two booths down from me a handsome older woman was drawing freehand fantasy sketches for $35 a pop. She was good- and quick- but was being asked to draw some stuff that was clearly making her a bit uncomfortable...I was walking by and I heard a girl wearing a Next Generation uniform asking if the artist could " please make Kirk's cock bigger"- just the sort of question that makes one stop and wonder- and look.

Sure enough, the poor artist was drawing Kirk and Spock in a lover's embrace- holding each other's peckers, to be specific- but the client wanted Kirk to be 'bigger'...the poor woman who was drawing this had a look of dumbstruck incredulity on her face; she didn't seem to know what this particular Con was about and the prospect of spending ten hours drawing homoerotic pictures of William Shatner looked like it was causing her to have some serious thoughts about a career change.

It made me need a drink, but it was 10 am and the bar didn't serve until 11, so I walked around some more...every booth had some sort of Sci-Fi erotica- some of it I was familar with: your typical Frazetta-clone titties and broadsword stuff; the Japanese SchoolGirl cartoons (Hentai, if you need to know) ; Catwoman clothing etc...but it went much deeper than that. People were selling "fan-fiction" and I was dumb and bored enough to try reading one of these Xeroxed masterpieces...it was a first-person account of Spock's internal dialogue: how could he reconcile his Human love for "JTK" with his own emotionless Vulcan personality?

I couldn't finish reading it, so I don't know how it ended. Probably in tears.

Ahhhhgghhh!! Thank Godzilla the bar was finally open.

"Gimmee a draft and a double shot of Wild Turkey."

This breakfast combo didn't even make the jaded hotel bartender blink. Surely he was used to early morning boozers- besides, he was busy gawking at the Animal Girls.

"Get a load of that", he said, looking behind me.

The Animal Girls are a non gender-specific type of FanPerson you can find at most Cons if you look hard enough- but this Con was for them, it seemed. The AG's like to dress as "sexy animals"- tight rabbit suits and fishnet cat cotumes being common examples for the females - Lions, Klingons and Bears for the guys...I'd seen it all before, but not quite so openly displayed.

" How is that cat-tail attached to that costume?" I wondered aloud, looking at a purple Catwoman with a long tail- her costume had no ass and her cheeks were hanging out, which was fine with me and my bartender buddy- but how about that tail? What held it in place?

"It's gotta be a plug," observed the barkeep, his eyes fixed on her ass.

"Nah. All day with that? No way", I remarked, showing just how naive I was at that time.

"Free drink if I'm wrong, five bucks if I'm not", offered up the bartender, who I was beginning to think was the only sane human being in the entire hotel.

"Deal." We shook hands and I ordered another round, which I dispatched in two gulps.

Fortified, I went back to the sales room. I had my "Vendor" badge and didn't have to wait in line, but I needed to get a closer look at the catwoman ass- I mean, a free drink was hanging in the balance ; a bet is a bet and I always honor my wagers.

So it was in the interest of sportsmanship and fairplay that I slipped into line behind the purple catwoman and started in with my very best pick-up line:

"Uh, are you from around here?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Wherabouts? I used to live here, but I haven't been up here for a long time..."

Catwoman looked at my 'civilian' attire and my Vendor tag and her face clouded with contempt.

"You. Are. A. Dealer."

"Well"...I stammered defensively, "I'm just working for someone else, but I don't think I'll make much money today. I brought the wrong stuff."

She looked me up and down and saw less than nothing.

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure you did."

By this time, even my dumb, drunken self had figured out that I was never going to bed this particular Kitty, so I dropped my veneer of gentility. The 101 proof Bourbon coursing through my arteries helped considerably.

"Say, that's a neat outfit...did you make it yourself...?"

"Yes. And yes, it's up my ass."

"Oh."

So I took myself out of line and went back to the bar.

"Draft and a double Turkey?"

"You got it. And here's an extra five for you."