Pictured above is a forgotten scene from Indiana Comic Con 2016, a perfect example of how much work goes into planning and executing a convention, and how organized and squared everything appears to onlookers if you pull everything off without a hitch. Every large-scale convention requires a lot of moving parts — much in plain sight, a few under the hood, plenty moving across the counter if buyers and sellers each play their parts. Maintaining the order is no simple feat.
As the routines go for those behind the counter, so goes a different set for those of us approaching the counters, bringing our offbeat interests to the party, our want lists, our spending impulses, and other critical factors that make comic, toy, and collectible shops a viable career track for anyone. Planning is vital for the sake of the geek economy.
Anne and I are preparing for our next outing, for which I’m roughly 70% ready. We have tickets, maps, lodging, event schedules, restaurant options, and a list of Plan B activities in case we run through our primary to-do list too quickly. This next shindig is one we’ve done so many times that half the mapping is permanently stored in my head for safekeeping. But I have much, much more to do before we head off to another husband-‘n’-wife outing, to hang out with others like us, to greet amazing talents, to see new sights, to frolic with familiar properties, and — value-added bonus — feast once more on decadent small-town carnival food.
But it only works if we can get everything lined up, if I can knock out the rest of the checklist on time. Too many distractions or too much lollygagging, and I can wave farewell to my idealistic vision of a weekend that looks and feels as organized, harmonious, and flat-out fun as a pallet of neatly stacked TARDISes.
…the TL;DR version: “I’m really busy with stuff right now but didn’t feel like skipping another day on the blog, so please enjoy this photo and a few random words. ok ttfn ttyl byeeee!” I hate doing that, but here I am. Yay blogging!