I've found my home

so ted, what's it all about then?

Last Friday (June 29th) was the last day of school for the students. I say it was the last day but that implies that they had been in school that week. In reality their last day had been June 22nd when they had partied, attempted "Pop Idol", played football and gone home. None of them turned up for the whole of the next week, except for the Friday when it was "Graduation Day" for the sixth grade. However, the staff had to turn up.

We sat around for a week doing very little - except moaning and whining and complaining. We had been promised that Monday (the 2nd if you are keeping a diary) would be our last day. On Monday we were told that Tuesday would be the last day. After sitting around for the whole of Monday doing absolutely nothing I went saw La Directore and told her I couldn't make it in to work on Tuesday. We said our goodbyes and I started my holidays!

Tuesday we took the car into the garage to be fixed. We knew that this was going to be a biggy. Although we had been planning to go to ComicCon since, ooooooo, four minutes after we left last year's ComicCon we realised that we weren't going to be able to afford it. I'd fucked up my money - long story that involves the way Mexican banks work and also some eijit leaving his card in the ATM [that'd be you Will!]. And the cost of the car was going to be crippling for a normal month without adding the expense of ComicCon. We walked from the garage to Maria's office where she spent the day on the phone and I spent the day on the t'internet. Home in time to watch the Peru match.

Wednesday we went to Maria's office again. She spent the day working at the computer, I spent the day reading. At 1pm we headed back to the garage to be told that they couldn't find anything wrong. Well, they could but it looked like the reason the ABS kept kicking on was because of the fuel pump - but that made no sense. Mainly because it made no sense and secondly because we had just had a new fuel pump fitted in January. We left the car with them and made it home in time to watch the Mexico match. Half way through the match we got a call. The car was fixed! They had opted for putting in a new fuel pump - and guess what? Because the part was guaranteed for two years they weren't going to charge us anything! Nothing!! Nada!!! The match was so bad that Maria ran out the house, leaving me to suffer Mexico's dismal display on my own, got the car and took it to CostCo. There has been a slow puncture in one of the tires. Turned out that there was a nail in it.

Thursday we went to Maria's office. She spent the day working on the computer, I spent the day reading. At 3pm we headed across the border. An hour and a bit to cross, then on to Horton Plaza for gyros in this place we know. Time spent shopping for a new handbag - got one, it's green - and then on to my newest, favouritest, bestest place in the world. Comickaze. I have visited many, many comic shops in my time but this place is the best. The owner is a very nice, polite, enthusiastic guy who really does know his stuff, is interested in what you might like and listens! We walked out the store with over $100 in TPBs and books - some stuff that we had never heard of before but (with the promise that if we didn't like it he'd buy it back off us) were suddenly really looking forward too. And not just stuff for us! We'd also bought a book for Danny (that was how interested he was - and probably how good a sales person he is). Yep, I know that we had said money was tight but once we had made the decision not to go to ComicCon there were still some books we wanted/needed to buy (and the car cost nothing!). On to Borders to pick up presents for the kids to give their father. Home to fight with the water heater.

Friday we went to Maria's office. Which is where I am now, writing this. She is in another cubicle working. So, that's you up to date then I hope.   

geek or nerd

Geek: A geek is an individual who is fascinated by knowledge and imagination, usually electronic or virtual in nature. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines the word geek as "1: a carnival performer often billed as a wild man whose act usually includes biting the head off a live chicken or snake 2: a person often of an intellectual bent who is disliked 3: an enthusiast or expert especially in a technological field or activity," though these are only three of many definitions.

Nerd: Nerd as a stereotypical, archetypal and frequently used informally as a derogatory designation, refers to somebody who passionately pursues intellectual or esoteric knowledge or pastimes rather than engaging in social life, such as participating in organized sports or other mainstream social activities. The Merriam-Webster definition is an "unstylish, unattractive, or socially inept person: especially: one slavishly devoted to intellectual or academic pursuits."

So, which is it to be?

I'm sat on the balcony and I open Eternals. I picked it up from Borders. I love Maria, I hate me! We are supposed to be saving money, next month is Comic-Con and I know, I know that I am going to blow huge amounts of cash on comics. The last thing I needed to do was, while walking to the pay desk in Borders was pick up a $30 hardbacked graphic novel. But I did. Written by Neil Gaiman, art by John Romita Jr., how was I supposed to resist it? I hate me! I read the foreword by Mark Evanier (he writes Groo donchu'no). Sat opposite me is Maria, silently smoking a cigarette. I turn to the first page and take in the art.

I love JRJR. First fell in love with his art when he drew Daredevil. That was the run written by Ann Nocenti not the Frank Miller run. Although he did the art when Miller wrote "The Man Without Fear" mini-series. He also did the art when JMS took over on Spider-Man. You know JMS? the guy who wrote Babylon 5. Ironically, JMS wrote "Midnight Nation" which is a total rip-off od Gaiman's "Neverwhere". You know this Eternals is based on the original by Jack Kirby? Oh, and it has a bit of a cross-over with Civil War. I might need to explain a bit of that to you before you read it

Except I don't actually say this out loud. These thoughts rush through my head, followed by many many others. But I don't say anything out loud. I read the first page, turn over to the next page which is a "splash page" (double page picture). I take in the art. I turn to the next page and Maria breaks her silence.

You know. I love you when you geek out.

Yipeeeeeee!!!! I'm a geek not a nerd!!!!!!!

end of the year

It's about this time of year that everyone decides to write a top ten or their fave moments. Never having been one to miss out on an opportunity to use a cheap blogging trick I have decided that as this waggon is rolling past and their appears to be a band on it - well, I'll just jump. In no particular order here goes:

Film:
Oddly enough I have actually been to the cinema more times this year than I have in the last 20 years combined. Therefore I do have an opinion - rather than referencing some DVDs or philums I might have watched on television. Mentions to "Thank You For Smoking", "Flushed Away" and "V for Vendetta" need to be made but:

Film of the year: "Babel".

This was just excellent beyond belief. I was totally hooked from the moment it started and felt cheated when it ended (and isn't that the best). When we stepped out of the cinema to find that two and a half hours had just disappeared. It was amazing!

Music:
I am going to go for a single here. If I was forced to choose between an album I would have difficulty between The Killer's "Sam's Town", The Foo Fighters' "Skin and Bones" and Thirty Seconds to Mars's self titled album. So I am choosing one track from the year.

Single Track of the Year: Dead by My Chemical Romance  Download Dead mp3

From the album "The Black Parade" this is the second track. We get up every morning to a CD kicking in on the alarm clock. This is the one track that over the year has been like a bucket of water in the face. More than that it actually makes me jump out of bed with enthusiasm! It is just fun, fun, fun. That is until you listen to the lyrics - but since when have lyrics been important to me :^)

Book:
This is another wonderful choice for me. I have read many books this year: many, many books. It is hard to explain how many ways my life has changed and how many, many ways it has changed for the better. One of those changes has been that I have started reading books again. Several of the books I have read might have been new to me but are in fact not new to this year. Some books have the added advantage of me either reading them to Maria or having had them read to me by Maria. I am going to ignore everything written before 2006 and go for:

Book of the Year:  Love and Other Near Death Experiences

by Mil Millington

It made me laugh out loud. There were huge passages that I read to Maria. I enjoyed it! Honourable mention should go to "Stupid and Contagious" by Caprice Crane. Another fun read. Neither book has any particular depth but they have a resonance that I enjoyed and they made me laugh - which counts.

Comics:
I haven't read many comics this year. I have been to the San Diego ComicCon which was amazing. However, if you were to ask me what is happening in the world of Spider-Man, Batman et al I would (for the first time in many years) have no idea. And, to tell the truth, I don't really care either. I have read more books, seen more films and listened to more new music. I have, though, spent over $300 dollars on comics (eeek!) this year. Most of it has been on old series that I needed to have. But, with a new relationship comes a desire to find new things. I have shared Neil Gaiman's Sandman with Maria but (more importantly) we have discovered something new, something that we can share with each other:

Comic of the Year: The Cat With a Really Big Head
                                      by Roman Dirge

 

There is a good chance that we will go to ComicCon 2007 and I already know that we will be buying most of Mr. Dirge's "Lenore - The Adventures of a Cute Dead Girl". He has our sense of humour!

Food/Restaurant:
This is a goody! Before I came to Mexico I loved tacos. I had had tacos at Taco Bell, I had made my own tacos with an El Paso kit. I knew my tacos! Oh how wrong I was. For starters, tacos do not (and here I have to emphasise the not) come in a hard shell! They are in a soft, rolled tortilla. Also there are none that I have that include mince! Last night I (in full-on pig mode) ate my way through 7 tacos - three asada, four adobada. Filled with meat, avocado and anything else they decided to throw in there. However, those aren't my fave:

Restaurant of the Year: Tacos Salceados

If you are ever in Tijuana ask any cab driver to take you to the taco place on Ermita - they will know where you mean. The. Best. Tacos. Ever. Don't believe me? They have a myspace account (doesn't everyone) and a review in the San Diego Reader, plus one in the New York Times!They do a wonderful salmon and cheese taco that is to die for. Got to love their fish taco. Do a wonderful baked potato. And, more to the point, two of you can eat to the point of explosion and still have change from a 200 peso note. Excellent!

Alcohol:
Nope, it ain't tequila. It ain't because we had a couple of bad nights on tequila and haven't repeated the experience - tell you how unacquainted I am with tequila, I just had to ask Maria how to spell it! Although I am drinking (as I type) Noche Buena - a beer that is only available over the Christmas period - it isn't good enough to change my opinion of my poison of choice:

Alcohol of the Year: Dos Equis

 

And the bestest thing about Dos Equis is not the fact that when you order one (between the hours of 6 and seven) you always get two, nope, the bestest thing about Dos Equis is that Maria knows the model who is being used in their promotional pieces at the moment (and when I say knows - she knows that those are her real breasts!).

Moment:
There has to be a moment of the year. There has to be one stand out moment that when I look back on 2006 I can say - that was the moment. Except there isn't. Every day has its moment that makes it stand out, every day has moments that make me appreciate 2006 more than any other year, every day makes the day before pale into insignificance:

Moment of the Year: Waking up each morning beside Maria

I hope you had a good 2006, I hope you have a better 2007. I know that I will because I know that each morning I will wake up beside the woman I love. Happy New Year.

comic-con - the final bit (I hope)

Somehow, on the way to step outside I manage to acquire another ten TPBs. We are also handed free t-shirts, I am dragged into a stall to meet the writer and artist of a comicbook that they both sign and give me, we are handed several free comics and two Darkness posters. The backpack is getting very heavy. Maria is carrying a Dark Horse carrier bag into which we stuff everything that is pressed into our hands. It is hot and crowded in the Conference Center [sic], the backpack is very heavy and our feet are starting to ache. But we are happy. There is a silly-giggliness about the whole thing. Maria tells me about the WonderWoman she saw. She was jealous of the legs, jealous of the way the costume fitted but (at least) her breasts were bigger than his. Up the stairs and head towards the doors. We will go out onto the terrace, sit down and have a cigarette. We push open the doors and try to step through them.

We can't move. It is like walking in treacle. The heat outside is a solid, oppressive force. We can hardly move away from the doors and slump to the side. The backpack falls from my shoulders and for a second I feel like Wendy in Peter Pan: "I can fly, I can fly!" But the heat drags me back down to the ground. We pull out cigarettes but don't need a lighter. One drag on them and they ignite in the heat. It is 42°C (that's just over 107°F in old money) outside. We last for one cigarette and then, hauling the backpack upwards, return to air-conditioned comfort and 40,000 sweaty comic geeks.

The next three hours pass in a daze. We move from stall to stall. We buy a Snoopy for Danny at the Charles M. Schultz stand. We buy a Penguin from Madagascar for Nikos (obviously we didn't go to Madagascar, I meant from the film. We bought it at a toy stall). We stand for ten minutes listening to the words of wisdom from Stewie (from Family Guy). I manage to end the day with Sandman 1-10, Lucifer 1-5, Powers 1-4. Maria discovers the works of Roman Dirge (cannot recommend The Cat with the Really Big Head and One Other Story That Isn't as Good enough - we will be buying a lot more of Mr. Dirge's work). We bought matching t-shirts (I know, a bit Howard and Hilda but we both wanted one). Maria also picks up a couple of other Neil Gaiman books.

Five hours later and we are down to our last $27. We are tired and hungry. The backpack has taken on a weight that means occasionally I find my nose touching the tables of stalls we are standing at. We decide to go dump the backpack and the two carrier bags in the car and then nip over to Horton Plaza for food.

Nip over.

The heat is oppressive. The ten minute walk back to the car takes 30 minutes. We dump the backpack and the carrier bags in the car, I think about wringing out my t-shirt because it is soaked through with sweat, my t-shirt dries instantly and we head towards Horton.

Sat in Great Gyros, eating gyros, fries and drinking cokes we feel all the energy drain from us. Our wallets already drained, we think back to the crowds we have left behind us, the queue of people still trying to get in. We finish our food and wander back to the car. In thirty minutes time we are home. Comics strewn about the table, t-shirts being hung in wardrobes, smiles on our faces and laughter breaking out as we reminisce. We shower and lay on the bed with both fans going.

Later, much later, we dress in our matching t-shirts and go out for dinner at a taco shop. We meet up with a friend who had been to Comic-Con and tell stories about our experiences. Back home we climb into bed. Our bodies tired and aching, desperate for sleep but our minds reviewing the day. Occasionally one of us will start to giggle and start a story with "did you see...?" or "remember that...?" or "next year we should...."

In the dark we hold hands and drift off to sleep. As we recognise that moment when it is the end of a day we finally whisper to each other:

Maria: I love you

Me: I love you. And thank you.

Epilogue:

I had my fears about going. I knew that Maria wanted to take me because comics were something from my previous life and she worries that I gave up so much for this life. However, I am happy with the decisions I have made, more than happy with the life I have and didn't think that I needed comics again in it.

I was wrong.

I was wrong because I was seeing this as the old billy rather than something that new will could have. Together we did something, went to Comic-Con and it was an experience we shared. We discovered new writers, new comics, new t-shirts and we discovered them together. We found things that neither of us knew about and they became ours.

The best thing in all this (for me) is that Maria really enjoyed it. I knew she would enjoy my happiness, my joy but the fact that she really, really enjoyed it was fantastic. What I was worried about, this just being a me-thing like shoe-shopping is for her, turned out to be an us-thing. And that was/is wonderful.

Now, now we start to save for next year. Already we have a small list of things we want to buy and we know that next year we will discover even more things that we never knew we wanted. Maria is already talking about "Saturday we should just go and buy the stuff we have on a list. Sunday we should just buy all the stuff we saw on Saturday, and after a night's sleep, we still want."

Roll on Comic-Con 2007.

[The End - I promise!]

the never ending comic-con story

At first I held it together. Faced with 12 boxes of cut-price Trade Paper Backs (TPBs) I stayed calm. My fingers started to regain "muscle-memory". All those years of flicking through comic boxes, trying to hunt down an Incredible Hulk #314, meant that I was used to rifling through boxes quickly. Within, what seemed minutes to me and hours to Maria, I was onto box four. I had already pulled two TPBs.

I'm going. I'll leave you here to look but I'm going to wander around. I'll be back. I love you.

Uhmmm. Yeah. Love you. Look a run of Powers...oh, she's gone.

I finished the twelve boxes and moved out the booth to discover that this stall was three booths big. They had more and more boxes. In my hand I had three TPBs already clutched, there was a chance for more. I moved into the second booth, all the time my demeanour was cracking. I was standing between other rifle-ers, occasionally one of them would pull out a TPB and we would all smirk in the knowledge that no-one would ever buy that. It is weird when you are amongst people who know things you know. There is a language, in-jokes, that you get and yet in real life would make no sense. Where else would the comment "Ooo Rob Leifield's Youngblood - anyone, anyone" bring a reaction of total disdain?

Honey, you look like you're having fun. I'm just going to look around a bit more. Take your time. Love you.

Yeah. Right. Look. Sandman 7 and 8. And this other Sandman thing. Sandman: Dream Hunters...oh, she's gone. Love you. Sorry, not you. I was talking to my girlfriend. I WAS! I do have a girlfriend. Just because I read comics doesn't mean I don't have...wow - Lucifer 4. Fantastic!!!

I continue to go through the boxes in booth 2. By the time I finish I have six books in my hand. I leave booth 2 and move into booth 3. It appears I was observed in this moment. Maria had decided to let me do my thing and so had stepped back. According to her I had totally lost my cool at this stage. I had this big, stupid grin on my face, my hair was all over the place (and also according to her - I am a hair-queen) and I was emanating this aura of total joy.

By the end of booth 3 I have seven TPBs in my hand. Checking the prices on the back I estimate that they have a total of $130 in price. However, this is a 50% off stall. I hand them to a man in a red vest. This man is round. He is as tall as he is wide. He looks like a snowman in shape. A small round (bald head) on a small round body. He takes the books from me and slowly reads the prices on the backs of each book. As he reads them he double blinks, as though taking a picture of them. He arrives at the last book and then stares into space. In theory I should be able to hear the clicking of his brain as he slides all the beads and counters inside his head. This is the impression he wants to give. In practise I can see that he has no idea what he is doing - except trying really hard to look like he knows what he is doing. He turns to me, looks me up and down and then says (in a voice that sounds extremely under-confident):

$48?

I smile and nod. He looks relieved. I give him the money and place the books in my backpack - it feels good to own comics again. I step away from the stall and look for Maria. Ha ha ha ha ha. There are approximately 1000 people in the aisle in front of me, none of them are Maria. My mobile phone rings in my pocket.

Hi, where are you?

I'm stood beside the stall. You know, the stall where I was. The stall that you said you'd come back to? Where are you?

I'm stood underneath a big 300 sign.

Oh, I didn't know Frank Miller had a stand.

[gosh I'm witty sometimes]

Sorry? I don't get it.

[this isn't one of those times]

Never mind. Stay there. I'll find you. Love you. Bye.

I discover a Maria who is really, really excited. [this bit needs to be read at about three million miles an hour, so take a deep breath and don't breath again until.....

Look, look, look. Look at this t-shirt. Isn't it brilliant. It says "Pea Standing Up" and look. It's a pea, standing up. You have got to come see this stall. It has all this pea stuff. There is a film of two peas dancing and they call it The Pea-Pea Dance. And they have badges and everything. And you see that man there at that stall. He only runs that stall because he likes the stuff he sells. His real job makes loads of money. I think he's in boats or something. But he spends most of his money doing that stuff he's selling. He makes no profit. Makes a loss. And his wife woke up one morning and said "I don't get it" and she left him. And he doesn't care. He likes selling that stuff. And look at this. Look at all this pea stuff isn't it cute. Isn't it fantastic. Oh, I'm going to buy more. Can I have these two sets of badges?

.....now, breath again]. The girl at the stall remembers Maria from her t-shirt buying. She points out that the badges are limited issue and each card (with four different badges on) has a number on it pointing out their exclusivity. Maria manages not to fall about the floor laughing, picks two cards (I like these numbers) and still maintains her dignity as the girl places the cards into a bag and then seals the bag: "You know, because you might want to keep them."

As we walk away from the stall I explain the whole "slabbing" thing with comics - where comics are graded and then sealed into vacuumed plastic sheaths, never to be opened again. "Noooo!" says Maria. "That makes no sense!" The next stall has a display of ten "slabbed" comics. She gets the giggles again.

We have been in the hall for two hours. It is now nearly four hours since our last liquid intake, our last nicotine intake. It is time to step outside for a cigarette.

[Yep, there is more to come - I'm sorry]

that there comic-con thingy

Name and Shame time:

Maria Rocio Moreno Lazalde - I name thee Geek.

The doors opened and the eight rows of people in front of us moved slowly through them. Over a hundred people to a line, there were going to be nearly a thousand people in front of us - would there be enough room for us to move, to see, would there be anything left for us to buy? I've written before about size - how every now and then I am shocked to discover how small my world was before. I had been to comic meets before - 20/30 stalls, couple of thousand people (well, maybe 600), all crammed into a small church hall or a meeting room in an hotel. This was a bit bigger. This was a fuck of a lot bigger. By the end of the day 50,000 people would have shared the same floor space with me - there wasn't much room for more, the doors were shut by 1pm.

I had brought an empty backpack with the intention of filling it with the odd Trade Paper Back (TPB) but we had been advised to go straight to the Dark Horse stand and get one of their free carrier bags - they are big and strong and should hold enough stuff. I was a bit perplexed about this stuff. We only had a certain amount of money - what stuff would we be getting? We didn't make the Dark Horse stand (at first), we started to wander down the main thoroughfare and were sucked into the DC stand.

Let the accumulation of stuff begin.

There were tables of badges (pins), postcards and posters. It was like feeding time in the shark pen, where the sharks hadn't been fed for weeks. People were helping themselves to stuff, cramming it into their pockets. I overheard two people talking behind the table:

"Your job is to just keep filling the bowls, keep filling the bowls with pins. Keep the piles of cards high. Just keep replacing stuff. These people will just take and take and take all day."

Embarrassed, waiting to hear someone shout "Stop! Thief!!", I reached forward towards the bowl of Superman badges and took one. I stepped back. Waited. No-one said anything. I was allowed to take the badges. I turned to Maria and asked if she wanted one. Nope. A Green Lantern badge. Nope. A Flash badge. Nope. A Vertigo Badge. Nope. I was caught in the frenzy. Wandering down the table. Picking up badges. My mind was already racing. Must. Take. Posters. But that would be insane - there was no way we would ever put comic posters up in the flat. All my fears about being a comic geek were forgotten. I was entering the zone, I was about to totally lose it. There in front of Maria I was becoming one of them, I had turned towards the dark side. And then she took the first step towards geekdom:

I would like one of those Batman badges though.

My hand launched into the bowl and I grabbed two badges (hell, I wanted one as well) but I was too slow. Between me and Maria there were several people - I had been sucked into the feeding stream by the tables, she had moved to the relative calm that existed three spaces away from the tables. One of the people between me and Maria turned towards her, offering her a Batman badge:

"Here, take mine."

She smiled at him, she thanked him, he blushed and turned back to the tables (probably to get another free Batman badge - did you hear me Maria? It was free badge, he gave you a free badge!)

We head up the hall - I say up because the numbers of the rows increase. We are heading for row 4000. Did I mention this thing is/was huge? The row numbers go up in 100s. So there are just over 400 rows with approximately 20+ booths on each row - now start to see the size of the thing? We heading for the Tokidoki stand. Maria has been in the t'internet and discovered a t-shirt she would like. Me, in my determination not to appear a total geek, I'm trying to hold everything in, stay cool, ignore everything that is going on around me (fuck - look at that giant Batman made out of Lego). I'm determined that I'll keep it together and Maria won't see me crack (that woman just forced a free comic into my hand - "forced" might not be the best word). We get to the Tokidoki stand. There is Maria and I on this side, there is a guy behind the till and two girls the other side. I will cunning call them Girl 1 and Girl 2. The guy is comic-book-guy, he never moves from his seat behind the till, he speaks with an attempted sarcasm-edge to his voice. He fails to be totally sarcastic because he is such a caricature. The girls are both cute - I do not mean this in a patronising way, it is the best way to describe them. They are both pretty, helpful, smiley, slightly Asian, the sort of girls you would hire to work at a comic convention selling *cute* t-shirts - they are cute (I can say that because I'm reporting here - obviously I didn't notice they were cute until halfway through the conversation when it was brought to my attention). As we approach the stand, Maria and I separate - she sends me to the t-shirts and moves towards the till and the badges.

Maria: That's the t-shirt I want.

Me: What colour? What size?

Maria: I want the colour and size that you think I want.

Guy: Those pins are a dollar each or six for five dollars. They aren't free.

Me: Err, hi.

Girl 1: Hi. How can I help.

Me: I'd like that t-shirt please.

Girl 1: Cool. What size?

Me: Small.

Girl 1: Small men's?

Me: It's not for me! It's for her. Small women's please.

Girl 1: Ok.

Maria: Ooooh, look at these pins. They are so cute. I have to have these.

Girl 1: What colour do you want the t-shirt in?

Me: Maria, what colour?

Maria: You choose, I'm choosing pins.

Me: Errrr, that colour?

Girl 1: We don't have any in that colour. We only have white ones.

Me: Oh, then I'll have a white one, small women's please.

Girl 2: We don't have any small women's in white. We only have extra small.

Me: Errrr, Maria can you wear an extra small?

Guy: No.

Maria: Yes.

Guy: No.

Maria: I can wear an extra small.

Guy: [to Girl 1] what size are you wearing?

Girl 1: Small.

Guy: See, she's wearing a small. You can't wear an extra small.

Maria: But I'm flat chested.

Guy: Pardon?

Maria: I'm flat chested. Look at my chest. Now look at her chest. She has boobs.

[this might be the moment that I noticed the two girls were cute]

Girl 1: Errrm.

Maria: Sorry, but you have boobs and I am flat chested.

Guy: (speaking very slowly as he has spent the last several seconds alternating between looking at Maria's chest, Cute Girl 1's chest and Cute Girl 2's chest) That will be thirty dollars plus five for the pins.

We start to walk away and then Maria has her "Road to Damascus" moment. She sees another t-shirt and wants it. She sees another t-shirt and wants that as well. She sees some more badges and wants those. I look into her eyes. She is no longer seeing Comic-Con through the eyes of an unbeliever. She is no longer looking at people dressed in costumes and sneering. She can see past the lists of missing comics grasped in sweaty fan-boy hands. She can see the beauty, the wonder of Comic-Con. It is a shopper's paradise. It is so big that they have everything here. Not just stuff for Captain America buffs but also stuff for 32 28 year old, former models, quality engineering, beautiful, tall, attractive, flat correctly-chested, intelligent women. She is hooked. A smile suddenly starts to creep across her face. We stop. She turns towards me and says:

Wow! I think I'm going to love Comic-Con. Can we buy tickets for next year?

We have been in the hall for less than an hour and she has converted.

Maria Rocio Moreno Lazalde - I name thee Geek.

And at that moment all my defences fall. All my determination to be cool, to be normal, to be a proper human being fades. I embrace my geekness. I become one with the comic force. I return to the path of comic enlightenment.

I dive into the first box of TPB that say 50% off and start rifling through them.

[This is going to have to be continued, right? I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to go on and on and on and on but it looks like I will. Sorry.]

thoughts before comic-con

What scares you, really scares you?

Oh, I'm not talking about spiders, dentists, Phil Collins or showering in prison. These are things that *frighten* you. But these are things that you can say out loud. As crap as I feel about being frightened by spiders, I could sit in a pub and tell you about my fear and in many ways it wouldn't be-little me. You'd listen, nod your head and then tell me how you are frightened every time you get out of the car, look down and see a drain. You have this irrational fear of dropping your keys down a drain (or is that just me). We'd laugh, have another drink, maybe tell each other about other *scary* things but we'd never tell each other the things that really scare us. Not the Room 101 stuff (and I mean the real Room 101 from 1984 not the trite television programme) the things that are secrets know only to us.

Ever read a comic?

When Maria and I started this we decided to be honest - I know, totally the opposite of what you can do on the Internet. We started with our faults. We would sit for hours listing why one shouldn't love the other. Inside us all there is a moment when we don't like ourselves, don't like something about us. The key to success is how you avoid noticing the things that are unlikeable. Successful people are all "me, me, me - look at me", the downtrodden people are all "don't look at me because I'm a bit crap". Successful people don't care how you perceive them, they don't see anything about themselves that are faults. We wanted this relationship to be successful and so we listed our faults to the other.

I like comics.

By the time I moved to Mexico, Maria knew everything about me. When I felt bad about myself because of [I'm not telling you what I'm scared off] she would tell me that she loved me because of that - not in spite of but because of. We had no secrets. Oh, there was the stuff I joke about (but it hurts me). How I feel short, fat, old, how I don't think I'm good looking. But this is stuff that I know (deep in my heart) isn't really me. I'm not really short, I'm not really fat, I am only physically old and no-one has actually looked at me and puked (well, there was this one time but she was very, very drunk and it might not have been the looking at me so much as the opening of her eyes). There are things about me that I really worry about - and, again, I'm not going to tell you.

She knew about the comics.

We met in London. It was the most frightening moment in my life. She would see me, she would be with me, she would discover all those little faults I have and it would end. There would be no point us continuing this, destroying everything we had unless we really, really knew each other. We wanted no surprises, nothing that would pop up in the first couple of months and force us to go "well, I never knew that and it changes everything". We knew everything.

And she knew about the comics.

You've seen Maria, you know of her, you know about her. I cannot tell you how fantastic she makes me feel, feel about myself. There are times when she walks away from me and I see other men (sometimes women) look at her and I think "wow! she chose me". Do you know how good that makes me feel about myself? There must be something about me. She chose me before all the others in her world. She found me 5500 miles away, a different continent, a different culture, a different life. She found me and she chose me. I must be something special.

She didn't really know about the comics.

In the past eight months I have become a changed person. I am more confident. I suffer less from stress. I am not as angry at the world. I am more relaxed. I am happy. I am slowly coming to terms, to peace with myself. Her love of me has helped me to appreciate what I am, who I am. And it is fantastic because it is self-perpetuating. The better I feel about myself, the more I am myself, the more she loves me for who I am, the better I feel about myself.

But there is the comic thing.

She knew I read comics. She knew I liked comics. She knew that. But there is something about comics that is a bit *wrong*? A grown man liking comics. We all know that the world sees people who read comics as comic-book-guy from The Simpsons. I like to tell people: I know people like that - lots of them. But I rarely finish the sentence: they are friends of mine. They aren't just my friends, they are my contemporaries, they are my peers, fuck - they are just like me. And that's what scares me.

I didn't want to go to Comic-Con.

Before we went to Comic-Con we would joke that she was going to be bored, going to be the only woman there in a room full of fat, sweaty geeks. She was going to go just to because she wanted me to go, she wanted to take me to Comic-Con but there was nothing for her. What did she want to go to Comic-Con for? She had lived here for eight years and never been. It was not her thing. Inside I was scared. She would look around the room and see a bunch of people that were worthy only of ridicule and then she would see me in the room - with my peers.

She would see me through different eyes and she wouldn't like what she saw.

getting to comic-con

We woke early. The parking in downtown San Diego (where the Convention Center [sic] is) is basically non-existent. The plan was to get there early enough to grab a parking space, go have breakfast and then arrive at the Convention Center [sic] at about 9.30, doors open at 10. Due to one person not really getting his head together (that would be me - for reasons explained below) we didn't set off until nearly 7. Sat at the second set of traffic lights Maria asks:

Did you bring the camera?

Oops.

We need the camera.

We drive through the second set of traffic lights and she throws the car through a U-turn. My coke bottle (lid firmly on) falls out of the drink holder, lands on my foot and bounces around the floor. As I bend over to pick it up my mobile (cell) phone rings and a voice asks "Are you there yet?". I explain that we are nearly there as I stare out the windscreen watching us approach the flat. The car screeches to a halt. I grab my coke bottle, leap out the door, unlock the gate, run up the stairs, unlock the two locks on the door, dive into the flat, open the fridge, swap my coke bottle for an unagitated (is there such a word?) one, back out the door, lock the two locks, down the stairs, out the gate, lock the gate, jump into the car, car pulls off with a squeal of tyres (very Starsky and Hutch) and Maria says:

Did you get the camera?

Oops!

Brakes squeal, car slams into reverse, car screeches to a halt, I leap out etc. etc. and so on - except this time I return with the camera. We arrive at the second set of lights. Maria buys a newspaper that announces the Head of Security in Tijuana has just resigned. Three weeks ago there was an attempt on his family's lives and (although he denies this is the reason) he has had enough. Kidnappings are up to one a day and he can't cope. Maria informs me she feels sick.

We get to the border and separate. Maria takes the car through the Sentri (she and the car have FBI clearance), I wander through the "Walking Border". Maria spends time laughing with the Border Patrol Officer about the chances of getting parking in Downtown San Diego. I spend time being interrogated by the Border Patrol Officer over which is my favourite comic. [Have you ever seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail? When ever I cross the border I always remember the scene when they have to cross the bridge - answer one question incorrectly and you are thrown into the ravine or in this case, they slap on the rubber gloves and check you internally for drugs].

Back in the car it is now past 7 and we are an hour behind schedule. No-one says anything but we are both thinking - NO PARKING. The freeway is busy, there are a lot of people on the road this time of the morning. I scan the cars we overtake - do the people in them look like comic fans? Off the freeway and into Downtown. There are less cars. Is this good or bad? Does this mean no-one has got up yet or is everyone already parked?

We can't use ACE Parking car parks because someone (<cough>Maria</cough>) has an outstanding fine with them. But, just a mere ten minute walk to the Convention Center [sic] (it will turn out to be a 30 minute walk back) is a parking lot. We turn the corner and see:

A totally empty lot. We park the car and set off towards the Center [sic]. In our minds this is turning into a brilliant day - no trouble parking means there will be no queues at Comic-Con - I am already planning what to have for breakfast.

The queue outside the Convention Center [sic] is already over 1km long.

We abandon any ideas of what to have for breakfast and join the queue - lemming-like. It is not yet 8am, the doors don't open until 10, do we really want to be stood in a queue for over two hours? And then the queue moves - they've opened the doors. We shuffle along, getting nearer and nearer the door. Behind us the queue is already replacing itself, as though there is some magic length the queue must be. Ten metres from the door, twenty five people in front of us, they stop the queue, they aren't letting any more people in! We stand in the sun waiting.

8.02am and the sun is already burning at full bore. I can feel the sweat running down my spine, down my ass-crack. I keep having to clear the sweat off my eyebrows before it drips into my eyes. I can feel my skin (which is coated in Factor 55) starting to move from red to black as it burns. Our cokes are finished, we are starting to dehydrate. I am certain that vultures are starting to circle above us and below us my Vans are starting to stick to the concrete slabs of the pavement as it starts to melt. I start to fade in and out of consciousness. Bits of my life start to flash before my eyes - most of them involving baths or swimming pools or the sea. Just before I die the security guard decides it is time to let more people in to the Center [sic]. I stumble forward, dragging one foot in front of the other. The ten metres feels like ten kilometres. Finally I cross the threshold and achieve the safety of air conditioning. It is 8.16am.

Up an escalator, along a corridor, into a huge room, queue to pay for our tickets. Get our *freebie* bag, get our badges, get into another queue. The security guards, like Babe at a sheepdog trial, move us into a system of barriers and masking tape - we prepare to wait another hour and a half for the doors to open. It is 8.31am

Maria spends time trying to decide what the fear of being herded like a cow is (she does have the answer, I've forgotten it and can't find it on the t'internet). [In passing, I always thought it was ironic that dyslexia was so difficult to spell, however Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia has just won in the irony stakes]. I tell her about the ET ride at DisneyLand. We go through our *freebie* bag. Spend time looking at the map. Listen to other people's conversations. Pass the time easily. I check my watch and it is already 8.34am. Doesn't time fly when you are having fun?

One year, seven months, three weeks, two days, nineteen hours and thirteen seconds later they open the doors. It is 9.15am.

to be continued...... (which sounds more like a threat rather than a promise)

early morning conversations

You're awake.

Fishna buribda bob?

You're awake!

Wha...wha...whadda ya wunt? Ish summat wrong?

You were just awake!

I wush sleepin. Wash wrong? I luv you.

I love you - but you were just awake.

When?

Just now. You were wide awake, staring at the ceiling. You were awake!

Angel, I wush fas-a-slep. You've jush woken me up. Wha time ishit?

It's three minutes past four. But listen, listen to me! You were awake! Your eyes were open! You were staring at the ceiling! You were wide awake and saying nothing! It was scary. It was like, like nothing at all was going on behind your eyes. But YOU WERE WIDE AWAKE!

I was asleep. You've just woken me up. I was asleep!

Wow! Sounds to me like you have a brain tumour. Do you think you have a brain tumour?

She kisses me, rolls over and falls immediately back to sleep. I am now wide awake. Do I have a brain tumour? I can't sleep. I can't sleep. The alarm is going to go off at 5.30. I need to get back to sleep. Do I have a brain tumour? I've got a long day ahead of me. Why does she think I've got a brain tumour? I can't sleep. I fall back to sleep at 5.27. The alarm goes off three minutes later. We turn to each other. We kiss. We say:

I love you.

I love you.

No, I LOVE you.

And I love you.

Promise me you will never leave me, promise me you won't die.

Errrr, I love you and I will never leave you but...is there something wrong?

I had a bad dream.

Oh - sorry.

You got an ulcer on your gum, at the front of your face, just under your teeth.

You mean where I normally get my ulcers?

Yes. Except this one kept growing. As the dream progressed it started to eat away at your face. You lost your bottom lip, then your jaw, then the side of your face. It was horrible. I couldn't find a cure for you. Doctors were baffled. And all the time this ulcer just kept eating away at your face.

Oh.

Are you excited?

What?

Are you excited?

I'm sorry????

About Comic-Con? Come on, we should get up and get going. You don't seem very excited.

Oh, you know how it is. What with the brain tumour and the face-eating-acidic ulcer it's a bit difficult to get going at the moment.

I thought you'd be a little bit more excited. You're a bit grumpy this morning.

Who'd have thunked it, eh?

excited? just a tad

Hi, my name's Will and I read comics.

Actually that should be read as "Hi, my name's Will and I red [sic] comics".

From the age of five I would get a weekly comic delivered to the door every Saturday morning. As all addictions go, this soon built to two, then three until, at the age of twelve I was getting five comics a week. By then I had moved away from the soft drugs of Whizzer and Chips, moving through the more hard core Tiger and Jag, Valiant and Action and was firmly encased in the crack cocaine of the comic world - I was reading Marvel and DC comics. It was mainly Marvel, it was mainly Spider-Man.

And then at twelve I discovered cigarettes and whiskey and wild, wild women. I convinced my mum that if she gave me the money she was spending on comics, I would pick them up from the shop and she would save on delivery charges. The money got spent - but not on comics.

At the age of twenty six, flicking through the magazine racks in WHSmiths I came across Spider-Man fighting a grey Hulk - and I was hooked again. By the age of 30, with the money sorted out and being given (once again) *pocket money* that I could spend on [rant] *whatever I damn well please because I earned the fucking money* [/rant] (please note, I didn't say I was mature), I was spending over one hundred British pounds sterling a month on comics. This was the peak.

Over the years my spending slowly shrank until I was down to a mere twenty pounds a month on comics. And then it stopped altogether. I moved to Mexico, leaving behind a collection of over 7,000 comics worth (well over) 10,000 British pounds sterling in value and haven't bought another comic since.

This is all about to change.

The biggest Comicbook Convention in the world is Comic-Con and it is held in San Diego - that's the San Diego that is 30 minutes away from where I am sitting typing to you now. Maria promised to take me one year - the emphasis is on the expression one year - when we could afford it. I knew, we knew, that there was no way we could afford to go this year. Finances have been tight, we have had to build everything up from scratch - hell we still don't even have a bed! So, one year I will go.

Comic-Con starts today.

We are going Saturday.

Am I a tad excited?

Am I fuck - I'm very, very excited!!!

Have I ever mentioned how wonderful Maria is? I should have, because she is. Thank you.