Jul. 25 - Lessons from the Anee-mays
As per every year around this time, me and the gang (sans Alex and Dan) took our annual trip out to Baltimore for Otakon 2007, the premiere anime convention on the east coast. Despite a rousing return of the same-ol' same-ol', I did learn a few things from the dork-fest. So instead of offering ridiculous predictions that never pan out, I'll provide the few measly kernels of wisdom that I've accumulated on this year's trip.
Otakon Never Fucking Changes
It was my fifth year at this particular convention, and every time I go is like a return to my sophomore year of high school. Oh sure, I'm a little older, a little wiser, I've stuck my penis inside a lady. But much like David Wooderson in Dazed and Confused, I keep getting older, and Otakon stays the same age.
You have no idea how many times I've seen this ass.
Nothing ever changes. It's the same people, the same Dealer's Room, the same game room, the same anee-mays, the same fan parodies, the same hotel, the same convention center, and the same disorganized, mouth-breathing volunteers fucking up panels and making themselves feel important by associating themselves with people only slightly sadder than they are. I ignored these shortcomings in previous years because in the end, it was all worth it. But now that it takes a much greater effort to get to said convention, these tiny foibles are now glaring annoyances.
Otaku Love Lines
They'll wait in line for anything. There were people waiting in line for pre-registration before the line even opened. Anyone with half a brain knows that the whole point of pre-registering is to avoid this problem entirely. You can just jog through the Thursday night queue, get your badge, and head off to the con Friday morning at your own leisure.
A full 90 minutes before pre-registration began.
There is no danger of you not getting a badge. But the Otakon convention-goer doesn't just wait in lines, he revels in them. He would like nothing more than to devote his entire weekend to standing in one, long, pointless line to his heart's content.
We seriously considered starting our own line to see if anyone would stand in it.
Baltimore is a Dirty, Dirty, Dirty, Dirty, Dirty City
If you like strip clubs, alcohol, prostitutes, and the sweet, sweet smell of sewage mixed with a bag of fish asses, then downtown Baltimore is for you! Granted, I like three fourths of those mentioned (see if you can guess which ones), so I won't delve into this further.
Just Get It
In the game room, there was a large booth for Mountain Dew's new EXTREEEEEMMMEEE product "Mountain Dew Gamer Fuel." I was under the impression that all Mountain Dew products were the assumed premier fuel of gamers worldwide, but I guess this new caffeinated ambrosia made it official.
The booth was giving away free cans of the new cola, so we all assumed that, since this is an EXTREEEEMMEEE advertising stunt, we would receive one in a snap.
Not so. Apparently we had to wait in line to play Halo 2, a game as sub-par as it is old, in order to get our entitled can.
Is there any other way to get a free one? Of course! Through the wall of free cans forming a protective barrier around the booth, you could just as easily thrust out your hand and, as secretly as you could, write down your address so they could send you one in the mail.
Okay, fair enough. They can't just give us a can because that would defy Otakon's rigid line-waiting culture. So we kindly wrote down our addresses and prepared to leave.
It wasn't until this point that I realized the absurdity of the whole situation. "If I wants a free can of cola" I says, "I gets a free can of cola." So I took one, and the Mountain Dew automatons manning the booth were none the wiser.
Victory can/face.
In case you're curious, it tastes like liquefied pixie sticks, only with slightly more sugar.
Of course, this "just get it" philosophy doesn't simply apply to petty theft. You can modify it for purchased products as well. The advantage of Otakon is you can buy whatever you want and no one's going to judge you (and if they do, you remind them that they're at an anee-mays convention). Which ties in to my final lesson learned...
By 2009, My Entire Wardrobe Will Be 100% Ironic
The only thing I bought at Otakon (besides food and booze) was this:
How could anyone pass up the awfulness of this shirt? It personifies everything kitschy and horrible about everything. It's like wearing an overweight, unemployed Ren-fair LARPer on my torso. The problem being that when I wear it, people might think I'm completely sincere about my clothing choice. It's an understandable assumption; I'm just nerdy enough. I'm no Fabio or Clive Owen or Robert Downy Jr.
On top of that, I go to things like anee-mays conventions. So in order to pull off my ironic wardrobe choice, I'm going to have to play the part just right. This isn't like my previous ironic t-shirt purchase, which is completely aware of its own lameness. Gandork 2K7 (which is what I shall call the shirt) is designed to be cool. It's like those long, linen Dragonball Z shirts, or any garment with a giant white wolf on it that you buy for your kids from the Santa Fe airport gift shop. They're supposed to be cool, but the only way they can attain some level of hip-ness is if they're worn ironically by trendy assholes.
I need to be one of those assholes. It shouldn't be that hard.
Posted by Nick Nobel
