Dave has always encouraged Jack to cosplay at San Diego Comic-Con, so this year, Jack took the bait. Dave waited until Monday night–the night before we left for San Diego–to order Jack’s “morphsuit” costume on Amazon. FYI, morphsuit is merely a new term describing Woody Allen’s sperm costume. Jack wants to get his costume covered in autographs.
Unfortunately, Dave ordered the suit via an Amazon third-party provider with our debit card. Thirty minutes later, while Dave and Jack were at Jack’s very first football practice on Monday night, I received a call from the bank informing me that a bunch of suspicious charges were placed on my card. In Germany. Sure enough, the bastards cleaned out our bank account the night before we were traveling. The next morning Dave was literally the last one to board the plane because he was finishing up his call with the bank to reverse the charges. I think there’s still a $400 charge on there we have to fight.
After many tearful outbursts from Jack about never getting his costume in time, it finally occurred to me to call the front desk of our hotel this morning. It was here all along.
So…all of this hassle for this:
As a parent, there are few places we take our son that amp up my anxiety disorder more than a 150,000 attendees cosplay convention. “Yes, officer, you are correct in understanding that I cannot identify the pedophile in a police lineup who snatched my son from Comic-Con, because the kidnapper was a grown man dressed up in a Batman costume.” Most geeks are the coolest people on earth, but I remain ever vigilant, convinced the pedophiles are lining up to execute kidnappings in disguise.
For all of the celebrity sightings, super-exclusive TV and film panels, and fun creatives and fans we encounter at San Diego Comic-Con, this show is exhausting. The most exhausting part? Keeping a 9-year-old happy. We are very fortunate to have friends we trust who will take Jack around the show here and there. Jack has no empathy for the idea that we need to remain at the booth to serve customers and meet industry professionals. He has less empathy for the fact that I need to remain at the hotel and work during business hours on week days. The work I do actually funds these five expensive, angst-filled days.
How I miss the days I could just head out to the Gaslamp District after the show and grab dinner and drinks with industry friends. Flash forward to 2014: by 7 p.m. when the show ends, Jack is already lying on the floor of our booth under a table half asleep.
These days Jack and I head back to the hotel by ourselves, I miss all of the fun conversations, industry gossip and laughs, and we dine on the limited menu of over-priced hotel food while Dave, the reluctant introvert, has to socialize without his buffer–me. Glamorous, ain’t it?