Classic Think About It: Heading For the Windy City
Originally Presented on July 6, 2002
If all things went as planned then I am, as you read this, in pure geek Heaven. After telling myself I was going to do it for years I have finally picked myself up by the metaphorical bootstraps, snapped my metaphorical suspenders, packed my metaphorical bags and driven 970 extremely literal miles to attend the annual Wizard World Chicago Comic Convention.
This is the second-largest convention of the year for the comic industry (number one being the San Diego Con in August, but even I’m not crazy enough to drive to California), and I’ve wanted to be an attendee as long as I can remember. This year I finally did it -- I rounded up some of my fellow geeks, planned the sucker and I am probably in line right this minute to obtain an autograph from the bald guy who plays Lex Luthor on “Smallville.”
Ah, bliss.
If there is anything regarding this trip I regret it is the timing -- due to the schedule for the convention I had to hit the road on July 4 and miss my family’s big Independence Day barbecue. July 4 and Thanksgiving, for the Petits, are the two biggest eating days of the year, and being forced to miss it hurts me deeply. But I’ve wanted to do this forever, and I know what happened Thursday without even being there: my Uncle Wally was late, it rained for a while, some contraption my mother bought from QVC failed to work properly and my brother, in an act of sheer selflessness, ate twice as many deviled eggs to compensate for my absence.
And it’s not like I spent Independence Day alone. No, I spent it on the road with two of my best friends -- my old roommate James Pinkard and my frequent comic buddy Mike Bellamy. A fourth geek, Chase Bouzigard (whom longtime readers will remember as being my co-geek for the “Star Wars” premiere in May) was supposed to come with us, but he decided he needed to “pay for school” or some foolishness like that. The boy never has managed to get his priorities straight.
Chase’s presence will be felt, however -- he is allotting Mike and me $40 to purchase as many comic books as we can for him. It is a challenge of sheer volume. He only stipulates that we not pick any of the tiny, independent publishers and not get any Superman comics post-1984 since he’s already got ‘em all.
As the individual who pretty much launched this little excursion, not unlike Amerigo Vespuci launching his epic journey to sail to a new world and get an autograph from the bald guy who plays Lex Luthor on “Smallville,” I’ve become the unofficial coordinator of the trip. And frankly, the fact that I’ve lasted long enough to actually get going says I have reserves of courage and logic I would never have believed.
Since I started planning back in February I’ve had to work around obstacles. Would we drive, risking life and limb and getting lost, or would we fly, risking being frisked down at the airport because James’ Grimlock action figure set off the metal detector? Chase (when he was still in) wanted to avoid any route that took us through Arkansas because he’s seen “Deliverance” too many times. Mike wanted to leave early in the morning on July 4, which would have placed us in Chicago probably in the middle of the night and certainly long before check-in time at the hotel, leaving us free to get mugged, arrested for loitering or eaten by the C.H.U.D.s.
It’s not easy being the voice of reason, folks, lemme tell ya.
Ultimately, of course, these issues were settled and I topped it off with just a few minor rules to follow when on the road:
• Bring all the CDs you want, but anyone attempting to play country music in my car will be left on the side of the road in Kentucky.
• Food and drink are permitted, but try not to spill anything red because Lola (my car) is quite sensitive about such things.
• No Austin Powers impressions while I’m driving, as I may be unable to resist the urge to drive into a bridge abutment to make it stop.
• And most importantly, when traveling with me, my friends should remember they are in a car with a humor writer with an empty notebook. I took the liberty of drafting a contract for them stating anything they say or do can and will be used against them in a future column or, if it’s really good, a screenplay. I will, of course, share profits from the inevitable action figures.
So you’ll be hearing from me next week with highlights of our epic adventure, ladies and gentlement. Assuming we figure out where the heck we are.
Blake M. Petit is in serious trouble, you know. Chase was the only one who knew how to fold a map. Contact him with comments, suggestions or C.H.U.D. repellant at BlakePT@cox.net.