Alternative Press Expo 2004
However, there was one thing above all else that was the coolest
and most coincidental thing to ever happen. I was just hanging out, chilling with
my Speakeasy and my lady, taking embarrassing pictures of Eisner nominated writers,
when a young woman's voice shouted into my ear, "Hey! Is your name Rafer?"
I turned towards the young lady, who while obviously inebriated on the fine concoctions
that the incredible Isotope bartenders were serving up, looked strangely familiar
to me. I replied with an affirmative, to which she replied, "No fucking way!
I went to high school with you!"
Now, let me mention that I went to high school literally on the other side of the
country, on the New Jersey shore, and graduated ten years ago. That I was running
into someone I went to high school with, at the most kick-ass party in San Francisco,
instantly made my head explode. I introduced Hillary to my wife, to Damon, to anyone
who was within reach. As it turned out, we both only half remembered who the other
person was, and our reminiscing consisted of a lot of this:
Me: "Hey, yeah, we were in that play together."
Hillary: "I was never in a play. You're thinking of someone else."
Me: "No, I'm thinking of you. You were in a play, and I remember you being
good in it."
Hillary: "Oh. Thanks, I guess."
And a little of this:
Me: "You were in my brother's class, right?"
Hillary: "Who's your brother?"
Me: "Jake. You know? Jake? He was a freshman when I was a senior?"
Hillary: "No, I was only one grade behind you."
Me: "No. You were like a freshman, right?"
Hillary: "No, I graduated the year after you."
Me: "Well I guess I'm sorry that I just assumed that you were younger, lady!
Some women would take that as a compliment."
Hillary: "Nice recovery, jerk."
And so it went. We left the party sometime around midnight, and stumbled back into our respective hotels for some well deserved sleep. I heard the next day that shortly after we left, a limo filled with gorgeous women came by and kidnapped Mr. Sime, and that everyone else went to a Hooker Karaoke Bar. I'm sure sorry to have missed that, but it's probably a good thing that we left when we did. I'm getting older, and can't quite work a convention with a hangover like I could when I was younger and had a serviceable liver.
Sunday - 02/22/04 - APE Day Two
And so it was back to work. Nan and I got up early so we could actually eat some
breakfast this fine
morning, ensuring that we wouldn't have the same mental breakdown that occurred near
the end of the show the day before. Also, I needed to keep my energy up as I was
going to appear on my first ever Convention Panel. As the least famous person behind
the table, I felt it was my duty not to suck.
For Sunday, I went all out and wore a tie. Honestly, I think more
people should dress up (or at least more professionally) for a convention. The theory
being that the better the creators look, the better the comic industry looks. APE
2004 had a LOT of people off the streets who were obviously not your average comics
fans. People who, it appeared to me, had never been to a comic show before, or more
probably, hadn't read a comic book since the '70s. Those are the people I dress up
for. Those are the people I want to start buying Plastic Farm. (Okay, who am I kidding,
I want EVERYONE to start buying Plastic Farm.)
I wore my New York Yankees tie because everyone loves a winner.
The show started real slow on Sunday. I suppose that folks were
all recovering from the night before, or perhaps they were waiting for the weather
to clear. But whatever the reason, the slowness gave me chance to wander around the
con a bit more.
I went and picked up the second and third issues of Andrew Boyd and Ryan Yount's
"Scurvy Dogs" comic, which are absolutely hilarious by the way. I overheard
someone (I forget who) talking during the show that they weren't buying Scurvy Dogs
because of all the hype surrounding it. Personally, I think that's a pretty lame
reason to not buy one of the funniest comic book series to come out in the last ten
years. Buy Scurvy Dogs, you snobs.
Then it was off to visit Funwrecker extraordinaire, Dennis Culver. Dennis was selling
two new Funwrecker mini-comics, as well as some of the original artwork from his
Plastic Farm #4 back-up story, "Astrozombies". I don't think it's much
of a secret how much I really dig Dennis's stuff, so getting two new books by Mr.
Culver was a definite treat.
The next stop was to the Almost Normal Comics table to both chat
with Mr. Elliott, and to stock up on copies of "Almost Normal Comics #1".
See, I have a ten-page story in that magazine, and I had sold out of all my copies.
(It's probably selling so well on the strength of the two Mike Dawson ("Gabagool!")
stories, even though I like to think that folks are buying it for me.)
What else, what else? Oh, of course I had to swing by the Teenagers From Mars table
to pick up a copy of Teenagers From Mars #8. I'm holding off reading this issue until
I get a chance to sit down and read the whole series in one sitting, but the flip
through looked incredible. Josh Divine also swung by the table and dropped off a
copy of Trashola #3. (I read that one in the airport on the way home, and it rocked.
The Wiffle story by Brian Wood and Ryan Yount was damn fine comics.)
Then it was getting time for my panel to start. During my final
smoke-break before the panel started, I ran into Rory Root and we had a short conversation
about the topic at hand. While I didn't get a chance to bring up any of Rory's thoughts
during the panel itself, I'd still like to thank Rory for taking the time to talk
to me. (A note to all publishers putting out graphic novels and trade paperbacks:
Spend just as much time designing your book's spine as you do on the cover.)
The Panel, titled "Does Size Matter? Minicomics vs. Periodical
Pamphlets vs. Graphic Novels", began sharply at 2:30, and featured Tim Stroup,
Batton Lash ("Supernatural Law"), John Porcellino ("King-Cat"),
the legendary Rick Geary, and myself. Seriously, like I said before, I was the least
known person on this thing. I'm fairly certain that I didn't make an ass out of myself,
even though I think I may have rambled a bit and/or destroyed the hopes and dreams
of everyone in attendance.
I have to admit that I was most nervous about being on a panel with Batton Lash.
I've heard him speak before, and he's always come across as super-intelligent about
the comics business. Plus, he's an incredible creator and I felt humbled in his presence.
I was a tad scared that once the panel was over, this guy who's work I really respect
would think that I was a complete boob. (Sometimes I'm weird like that.) After the
panel was over, I nearly had a fucking heart attack when Batton came over to me and
told me that not only did he remember me from the last SPX, but that he read the
Plastic Farm books I gave him, and that he enjoyed them. Seriously people, that pretty
much made my
convention right there. I was walking on air for the rest of the day. Thanks Batton!
Of course, the rest of the day was only an hour and a half long.
We packed up the table fairly quickly, as we've pretty much got the tearing shit
down part down to a science, said our goodbyes to everyone, and left the concourse
for another year.
Sunday Night - 02/22/04 - After APE dinner and a more mellow
Isotope visit
Nan and I, through circumstance and through not making dinner plans with anyone
else, decided to make our final San Francisco dinner just the two of us. We headed
back to the north beach area looking for a decent seafood place. Finding none that
fit our budget (after all, we did spend a ton of money on comics over the previous
two days) we decided to eat at the relatively less expensive Rainforest Cafe.
Jumping Jesus on a pogo-stick, was this place shit-fire crazy.
The Rainforest Cafe is like the more
family friendly, yet still surreal parts of Las Vegas. The restaurant is set up like
a real South American
jungle, with plants and animatronic beasts that scare the crap out of you as you
walk past them. We sat next to the elephants which would start trumpeting every five
minutes or so. (Nan commented that she didn't think elephants lived in the South
American rainforests, to which I replied that we were probably sitting in the African
rainforest section. Neither of us knew if there was such a thing as an African Rainforest.)
Also, I had a very large beer at dinner.
And finally it was back to the Isotope for some mellowing out and
drinking. James entertained the few intrepid folks there with tales of comic creators
who have come through his doors, with stories of drunken industry parties he's been
to, and fables regarding comic books in general. I don't know anyone who can listen
to James talk about comics and not be infected with the same sense of excitement
for the art form. It was a much more relaxed atmosphere in The Isotope than the night
before, where we could now sit down, hold a conversation without shouting, and actually
browse the shop's wide variety of comics.
When we finally had to leave, I was struck with the same feeling that I had upon
leaving from APE the year previous: I don't want to go home.
But home is where you wear your hat, and so I am here. At home. Writing this final
paragraph in this quite retarded con report, wishing I could be back at APE, wishing
I was back in San Francisco with some of the most bad-ass comic people the world
has ever known. Dear San Francisco, and dear Alternative Press Expo, it's only been
two days since we parted and already I cannot wait until we are reunited next year.
In case that during our time apart your memory drifts and you forget my face, come
next February I'll be the drunk guy in the Yankees tie and the belt made from twine.
The End.