APE 2003

Now with Lies!

Thursday

On Thursday, January 30th, I kissed my wife goodbye and hopped on a plane to San Francisco. I was headed for the Alternative Press Expo. There's just something about knowing that you'll be stuck on a plane for 10 hours that brings a sense of joy and comfort to a smoker's heart. So, in preparation of my impending nicotine withdrawl, I proceeded to get completely shit-faced before ever getting on the plane.

The Baltimore airport had one bar that you could smoke in. So, I spent three hours (I got there early bcause Nan had to get to work after dropping me off) drinking way too much, and smoking even more. Later, on the plane, I would drink a few more shots of rum, and piss off anybody riding anywhere near me with my constant piss trips.

I passed out for the last three or four hours of flying, and awoke in San Fran with a damn hangover. Picking up the rental car was fun as I most likely reeked of alcohol (and cigarettes which I had been chain smoking after getting off the plane) and had a pounding headache. Plus, I may have still been a bit drunk.

Long story short, I stumble into the Econo Lodge an hour later, and pass the hell out. I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. "No problem", I think. "I'm just sweating out the poisons, so that tomorrow I will feel better."

The next day comes, and I feel like ass.

This is my room at the Econo Lodge. Not as smoke filled as it would become.

View of Econo Lodge from just outside my door.

Friday

So now it is friday. I have an agenda for today, there are things I must do. First and foremost, I have to find the UPS that I sent all my comics to. Easy enough, I think, as I have spent days previous to the trip mapping out San Fran with mapquest. Mapquest tells me that UPS is but a mere 10 minutes away from the hotel. It takes me an hour. On the way back from UPS, I get lost. Again.

It is now almost 11am.

I decide that I need to find Isotope so that I can find it again later, when it realy matters. I've seen many pictures of Isotope, have heard many stories, and in a way, Isotope has almost become like a comic book Mecca in my head. A comic store that puts minis on the same shelves as regular comics, and they serve alcohol.

I get to Isotope around noon. I am starting to not like this driving in San Francisco thing very much, and am finding the parking in San Fran thing a bit less enjoyable.

But, the folks at Isotope are awesome and any stress I may have been feeling quickly fades away. James Simes, Isotope proprieter, takes me on a guided tour of all the artwork hanging on the walls as well as the toilet seat art gallery. I meet Ryan Yount, of Scurvy Dogs fame, and pick up a copy of his book. (Later on, when I read it, I doscover that Scurvy Dogs is one of the funniest books I have read in a long time.) James picks up a bunch of copies of the new Plastic Farm, thus becoming the first store in the world to have the new Plastic Farm on sale.

Oh, I also got to see the Isotope trophy a day early. (There was no plaque on it, so I didn't know who won.) But I got to see the trophy early.

While I took no pictures inside of Isotope, these were taken a block away. I really dig the way the houses climb the hill, and the bad ass cluster of trees on top are juxtaposed with a big ass electrical tower of some sort.

So now it's a little after 1 pm and therefore it must be time for me to get lost again. I manage to get on 101 going the wrong way and end up at the Golden Gate Bridge. It's official, the coolest thing I've ever found while lost is the Golden Gate Bridge. I ended up driving around this scenic area for an hour or so, half lost, half sightseeing. I took a bunch of pictures.

It's geting darn near 3 when I remember that I'm supposed to be picking up Rob Vollmar and Joey Belden at the airport. I figure, around the same time, that I'll drive out early, figure out where the hell APE is going to be the next day, then head to the airport.

Somehow, I end up on the Bay Bridge and find myself in Oakland. An hour and a half later, I manage to get turned around and headed back in the right direction. From what I saw of Oakland, it is a city of intersecting highways and overpasses that don't lead where you think they will. The whole city is also made of candy, and My Little Pony toys are used as currency.

This a building that I think looked cool. I was stopped at a traffic light, so it's about the best picture I could have taken without, y'know, getting out of the car.

I met Rob and Joey at the airport with little difficulty. I couldn't remember what Rob looked like, so I took a copy of The Castways and held it out, presuming that Rob knew that he was the writer of that book. And he did, so the picking up of people at the airport was a success.

On the way back to the hotel, we were sidetracked by a roving gang of highway gypsys who led us to their magical land of gold and magic. Joey was apointed honorary King Gypsy for a day, and was man of honor in the Highway Gypsy's Falcon's Day Parade.

Then it was back to the hotel where we met up with Ed and Todd of Absence of Ink.

[As an aside, I'd like to thank Ed for all his help and encouragement in even getting my ass out to San Fran. Thanks Ed]

Once the whole group was together, we went back to Isotope where a night of drinking and debauchery was certain.

I have ZERO pictures of the following evening, and my memory is a bit fuzzy. There were so many cool cats out that night, and it was an honor to meet them all. To list them would be folly as I would surely forget a few. [I will probably steal some pictures from other websites and put them up here at some later date.]

First off we spent an hour or so drinking at the store, then it was just a quick bus ride to Tonga, a tiki bar where it rains inside. Much alcohol was consumed by myself, and it's a wonder how I didn't make a complete ass of myself in front of people I had just met.

Or, perhaps I did, and everyone was too polite to tell me.

After Tonga, a few people started talking about heading back as there was some sort of convention the next morning. I mentioned that I could stay out and keep drinking as "Hungover and mean is the way to sell Plastic Farm." This phrase would come back to haunt me.

Next we stopped at some Irish I.R.A. bar where smoking was allowed inside.

I don't remember much after that, though I think we went to IHop.

Saturday - APE day One.

I am hungover. My ass is on fire. It hurts to move. I flip on the tv and see that the Space Shuttle blew up on re-entry. Now I feel even more like ass. I meet up with the AoI crew downstairs around ten thirty and I follow them to the convention center, as I have no business trying to find shit in this city on my own.

We're met at the convention center by a group of dwarves in Spider-man suits who tell us that parking is free and a trained valet will be carrying our packages inside for us. They forced feed us expensive wine and grapes, and we are brought inside upon the back of miniature elephants.

Setting up the booth is a fucking nightmare for me as 1) I realize that I am still drunk and 2) I never test set-up the table at home. With no gameplan, and half of my display materials broken, I forge ahead.

This is my display.

The view of my table if you were me and you were facing away from your table. Lower left hand corner, the guy with the hooded sweatshirt? I think that may be Ryan Yount, or it may be someone stealing all of his comics.

A funwrecking crew of drunken comics fans approach my table. Dennis Culver (center) later introduced me to Larry Young as "the dude who draws that book...whataya..fuck...um...Progressions." I quickly tried to set things right, stating that I was not, in fact, Jeff Coleman, but I think it threw Larry off for the rest of the weekend wondering who the fuck I really was.

I was handing out Progressions stickers at my table, which probably didn't help.

Curtis Broadway was cracking me up the entire convention. i tried to get him to jump up on his table, but he wasn't having any of it. Check out his really cool stuff here: http://www.curtisbroadway.com

There was a guy dressed up like Elvis who hung out a few tables down.

If I'm looking at the picture correctly, that's Dave Law of "Small Time Drug Peddler" standing up in the white shirt. I think that might be James Fulton's arm ("The Butcher") in the foreground. He was sitting right next to me, so it's possible.

And then a bunch of other stuff happened, and the show ended, and we left.

Dinner at Noriega's Teryaki Steak House of Steak. Ed Irvin and Todd Rapisura of Absence of Ink. Not pictured: Everyone else in the restaraunt.

Todd has recently done a book called "Mr. Bear and the Great Happenstance". Of all the books I picked up at APE, "Mr. Bear" is the only one I have read four times already.

And then it was back to the Isotope for the awarding of the Isotope Award for Excellence in Mini-Comics. We all got drunk again and met some cool motherfuckers. I talked with quite a few other comics creators about various things, such as getting drunk and drawing.

Rob Vollmar and Ed Irvin, Saturday morning. (I think.)

Saturday - Ape Day Two

The second day of APE, was very similar to the first day of APE. I handed out a shitload of free "Introduction to Plastic Farm" mini comics and sold...well, enough to buy me dinner later that night.

(I have since gotten an order from a San Fran resident, so my idea of using APE more as an advertising venture than a wheelbarrow full of twenties venture has already shown promise.)

Later...

Returned to Isotope for some more drinking. Hung out with some more cool motherfuckers, though a much more laid back and chill Isotope experience. Joey, Rob G (of Teenagers from Mars) and I discussed, over cigarettes, girls with maggots in their arms, the art of murdering someone on a live internet webcast, and just how damn cute puppies are. (That last part is made up.) Then "Eye of the Tiger" started to play and outcame the Funwrecker bats.

Last I heard, James is still looking for Kraven's head.

Speaking of heads. On the way back to the car to get Rob and Joey to the airport, I nearly fucking cracked my skull open on the side of the rental car. Big fucking lump. It is currently 2:30 am, Saturday the 8th, and there is still a dull throbbing.

And then it was time to leave. I took with me the foggy drunken memories of a city I never learned to drive in properly, the new friendships forged within, and a shitload of mini-comics.

Special thanks go out to the entire crew of Isotope who put up with my ass on four sepearate occasions. Super special thanks to Ed and the rest of the AoI crew for putting up with my ass the rest of the time. You guys went above and beyond. Thanks again.

-Rafer Roberts

If you got to this page directly by following a link somewhere, click here to go to the main Plastic Farm site. Thanks