Raven Loc
Mrs. McClure
Eng. 1 Honors
14 December 2004

The Comic Con International; a yearly ritual for freaks worldwide to gather in San Diego, and partake in their geeky obsessions. Since I was five I have endured the many disturbing images of scantly clad women draping themselves over mangled bodies. For the some 85,000 comic nerds, this is as close to heaven as it comes.

In late August, we pile into our Saturn and head out for the largest convention in America. As we draw closer to our destination, signs of unimaginable weirdness in its purest form begins to emerge. A women wearing nothing but 6 inch duct tape in two long strips saunters casually toward the nearest Ralphs store. A klingon complete with latex headgear leers menacingly out at all that pass. Never before or since have I experienced such fear or fascination in my life.

Upon entering the convention center, we set up at our temporary abode; the ASIFA-Hollywood booth. The people managing the booth next to us are displaying a looped preview for a horror film. Every five minutes a man screams I want my life back! I want to know why! Escape from the monotony is essential. I make my way slowly through the crowd, stopping occasionally to view the manga booths.

At the back wall there are T-shirts for sale, and a lone man ranting passionately to no one in particular. My interest is caught immediately, and I pause for a moment to listen. This is a very bad move on my part. The incessant talker is Phil Yeh, writer and illustrator of The Winged Tiger. He`s half-Asian and hysterically funny, but has a knack for catching his victims in a conversation and never letting them leave.

I stand for two hours, incapable of anything but nodding and indulging on the free M&M`s in order to survive. Eventually he notices the last name on the tag around my neck and inquires if my father`s name is Larry. I respond in the positive, and he announces himself a close friend to my father. The irony was too thick here, I had to break away to buy a Spock shirt. I stumble back to the booth, clutching my new shirt in a desperate search for salvation.

Towards the end of the day the woman over the intercom attempts to dislodge a few of the fans from the convention center. Her brief messages are growing increasingly irritated, as she is blatantly ignored by the uncontrolled masses. My father has to exchange my badge for a vendor one. All who see me now know me as Pam Waterbee young vendor.

The woman on the intercom is becoming rapidly more insulting. The door lay less than twenty feet from our booth. Frantically, we gather our merchandise and make a path through the lingering exhibitors to freedom.

Our attention on the escape route is usurped by a rather large but friendly looking man. His tag identifies him as Bob Schreck, the man my father worked with in filming The Incredible Hulk Meets the Ever Loving` Blue-Eyed Thing.

Along with him is a blonde woman in her fifties, and an anxious man sporting a goatee. They are introduced to us as Wendy and Richard Pini. I stand rooted to the spot as every intelligent thought leaves my head and are replaced by mindless drivel.

This was Wendy and Richard Pini, co-authors of the comic Elfquest. At the age of nine I had uncovered my mother`s old crate of comics, and made a point of memorizing every one of the twenty Elfquest within the box. Together this couple had breathed life into the tribe of elves I had obsessed over all those years ago.

I decided hi would be a simple way to aquaint myself with the comic book gods before me. Only by the time I had thoroughly thought out my witty conversation starter, they had left. My father leans over and mouths Why didn`t you say something? to me.

Then he nonchalantly mentions to Bob that I was a fan of Wendy and Richard`s comics. Bob grins and proceeds to drag me over to the Pini`s booth, pronouncing me their number one fan. Anyone who has witnessed the desperate fans residing at the Comic Con had a good reason to look as nervous as they did.

I muttered something about how amazing Elfquest was. Richard asks me if I had one of their Twenty-fifth Anniversary Edition Comics signed. At my blank look he explains the reason they`re here today is to celebrate the twenty-five years of Elfquest, and would I like one signed? I nod vigorously and he retrieves a sharpie and a comic.

Wendy smiles and says Is this to Pam Waterbee? As she touches the pen to the cover, I finally find I can speak clearly once more. No my name is Raven Loc. I`m not really your number one fan, but I really love the series and I`d love an autograph! She blinks a few times, then writes out a message and signs.

I am free to go at last, so we gather the last of the animation cels and trek to the ever-distant door. A girl in her late teens jumps out and taps us on the head with a plastic green baby spoon. She then places the spoon on her pink-haired head and skips away.

Finally we are through the door, in the car, and on the way home. The hard won autograph resides on my lap, and causes me to smile. I can`t discriminate against the freaks of the Comic Convention; I had coverted over to the masses of obsessive fans. Except perhaps the girl with the baby spoon, I can still discriminate against her