It’s the day before the biggest convention in an American comic fan’s year — the San Diego Comic-Con International.  Just about every one of my ComicMix colleagues is heading out there.  (Don’t ask me how they got hotel rooms, it’s still a mystery to me.)  I’m not.  My boss told me a long time ago that I can’t go on vacation when he’s in the country (yes I know, but it’s still better than being unemployed and sans health insurance), and even if I could I just don’t think I could work up the enthusiasm any more for something so expensive and exhausting.  The closer I get to pushing 50, the more 50 pushes back harder.

I vaguely remember when I used to have the energy for Events.  When I was in college I enthusiastically queued up for a couple hours to see The Empire Strikes Back and was severely disappointed because I was expecting a movie, complete with a resolution, not a chapter.  (When Robin expressed much the same sentiment years later on Usenet, I responded with “Marry me,” and the rest is history, sort of.)  I get the idea of wanting to be a part of a phenomenon bigger that one’s self, wanting “bragging rights” to fill your anecdotage.  (I wish I could say I coined that word, but I didn’t, I got it from a Fred Astaire movie and goodness knows where the movie’s writer picked it up.)  When it’s organic and unexpected, the Event phenomenon can be quite fun.  But what’s really organic today?

San Diego grew out of comic fans’ love for their medium and the people who toiled therein.  And then it just grew, and grew, and grew.  It’s nigh unto unwieldy now.  Before Wizard took over the Chicago Comicon, it too was centered around the comics artform; now it’s just another notch on the WizardWorld bedpost.  The more cons grow, the more the fans can convince themselves of the comic industry’s health — but the growth ain’t about comics, it’s about product.

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