I realize I’ve already lost my “normal” friends with this whole string, but let me take a brief minute to sell you. Anytime people have ribbed me for attending a Geek convention, I offer to show them pictures. I’ll usually convert them right there. DragonCon was three, and is now five or six, days of Halloween, New Year’s, Mardi Gras, Christmas, Super Bowl Sunday, and more. I’ve been told other conventions are where people calmly get dressed by day, go see their favorite sci-fi fantasy celebrities, then go home. At DragonCon you spend a long, and getting ever longer, weekend of unrestrained bacchanalia partying with those celebrities. Everyone has some geek in them somewhere, and DragonCon has bountiful tribes for everyone. Your people are there, and you will find them.
Dragoncon starts long before you start your drive or head to the airport.
Dragoncon starts in the costume planning, the game planning, the group planning. For a first timer, it really starts when the packing starts. Jamming things into hard cased luggage that you have never before tried to put in luggage. Attempting to fold your delicate costumes in ways that will see them safe through the anarchic hell of checked baggage. Perhaps you find out at his moment that your sword does not actually fit in anything you own. Maybe they’ll let you take it as carry-on?
Once you’re packed, you run through several mental checklists to confirm that you do, indeed have everything that each outfit requires, and that you can safely trek to the airport. However, it is at this moment you remember toiletries. Yes, the online groups tell you, you must brush your teeth and shower every day, for everyone else’s sake.
Packed and ready, you head to the airport. You cross your fingers that you’ll be under weight and not forced to do the re-pack of shame, especially considering the strange assortment of items contained therein. They can only be confused trying to determine exactly what “that” is. It’s clearly a Hello Kitty Deadpool mask. Don’t give me that look, this is perfectly normal. How much does it weigh now?
For my first Dragoncon, I knew not what to wear or bring, so I packed up my small assortment of Goth/Punk -ish clothing. The girl who brought me, however, had a very clear plan. She also had two hard suitcases full of artwork as she had secured both a booth and some print shop space. We also brought a case full of our Warhammer 40K armies in order to join the “Bring ‘em Battles” on the first day. Luckily, this was in the days of two free checked bags apiece. Yes, I’m that old.
As we were lodged in the Maxwell Housing “crack house” billeting building, it was a very short drive to get us to the Albuquerque Sunport International Airport, which some of you would recognize from “Breaking Bad” (it looks much the same now as it did then, there’s just more parking now). For the DragonCon bound, arrival at the airport is your first chance to play the exciting game “spot the Con-goer”. These days, I feel confident I can spot some at my departing airport (which, after several full circles, is once again the Sunport). You can definitely find some at your connection. But, if you haven’t been paying attention, or if your memories stretch back as far as mine to the days when Dragoncon was somewhat new and somewhat small, then perhaps you haven’t quite seen any other obvious con-goers before arriving at Atlanta Hartsfield.
It was at baggage claim at Atlanta Hartsfield Airport, 2002, that I first learned the game. As I said, once you’ve gotten that far, it becomes obvious. The Con-goer is specifically recognizable by:
1) Wonderfully obscure T-shirts, which have only gotten better over the years
2) Luggage with costume items leaking out and the really fragile pieces hand carried
3) More luggage than any human being, even a woman on vacation, should reasonably bring on any trip to anywhere
4) One of two expressions: a) anger and frustration because all their luggage is broken or missing and they’re NOT AT DRAGONCON YET! Or b) Pure bliss, because “THEY’RE ALMOST AT DRAGONCON!!!
5) Let’s face it, there is a “look” to Con-goers. It is widely varied so I won’t try to describe it, but one can look at a person on that weekend, at that airport, and KNOW that they are either going or should be going.
Moving along, we collected her copious amounts of luggage, grabbed a cab, and rushed to the Hyatt. Another moment of reminiscing. In 2002, one could call the hotel up a few months ahead of time and book a room. Can you imagine?
As I entered the Hyatt, midday on Friday of DragonCon, I found myself in a magical new fantasy world. Its a feeling that I’m guessing all DC virgins feel upon arrival, the feeling that you have found the promised land, that you have found your people, people that “get you” and who will accept you for whoever you are. They might argue with you over your favorite Star Trek Captain or favorite Dr. Who or the best D&D character/race combination, but that, in itself is proof that you’re in the right place. Ultimately, its a feeling that you, possibly for the first time ever, are home.
The costumes were already in full swing and everyone proudly proclaimed themselves fans of this show or this series or that. It was a massive coming out party for the sci-fi/fantasy nerds.
We’d arrived somewhat early in the morning, as such our room was not quite ready yet. We left bags with the bellhop and took her art suitcases to the Art Show. She had a panel on which she placed her best work. One was “Foil”, which depicted an ice figure touching a fire figure and was based on a poem by her friend Kacey. There was also “Inner Demon”, a picture of a red devil, curled up hugging its knees, which Kacey had modeled for. She proudly set these up, placed her prints in the print shop, and we moved along. There were more- a friend of mine once observed that she was a fan of “depicting a single exposed breast” in most of her female creations.
By now, our room had become ready, so we had everything moved to what was then called the Ivy Tower (now Radius). We unpacked, she changed into a school girl outfit (kept it easy that first day), and we took our miniature armies to the game room. This is where we learned that having well-painted armies doesn’t really translate to wargaming success. Our primary goal had been to show off our paint jobs, whereas our opponents were out to crush their enemies, see them driven before them, and hear the lamentations of the women. Her shiny green Dark Angels were glorious as her Eldar opponent walked straight through them. My muddy, gritty Imperial Guardsmen spent a lot of time shooting at the incoming generic red Space Marines without killing a single one. Whatever… ours still looked better.
I was then introduced to the brand new Mechwarrior Clix game. It was decent, at the time I felt it was an okay way to keep the franchise going. We also got an introductory game of Fairy Meat. Miniature gnomes trying to blast away at the miniature fairies who wanted to eat them. It was hilarious, Tammy loved that one a lot.
Being young twenty-somethings, dinner was a few slices of pizza chased by a slew of drinks at the Hyatt bar, which was, at the time, a long gentle curve facing the back of the building. We had some drinks, reveled in the atmosphere of drunk, partying geeks, and wandered to the back deck. The smoke deck was then, mostly as it is now. We lit some cigars and watched a spontaneous drum circle below- yes, drum circles at DragonCon were once spontaneous. We also watched hijinx in the pool, which would not be shut down until the following day, likely due to the very shenanigans we witnessed. Our cigar on that deck set the precedent for the weekend, it became a required stop every night.
After that cigar, we retired for the evening, an early night because Tammy had signed up to participate in the parade the next morning as an artist. So we headed up to the room an called it a night. I could not imagine the weekend I was going to have.
I’m trying to space this out a bit, and I realize I haven’t gotten all that far, but I promise the best is yet to come. It’s all I can do to keep from cutting straight to the epic Sunday Night of Everlasting Infamy. I’ll get there, I promise.
