Comic Con 2008 - Sunday, and homeSunday was a low key day – no panels for us (decided to skip Smallville and Supernatural as well as another Grant Morrison one), but we kicked it out on the floor. I bought about 200 comics from the bins, including the Marvel Star Wars issue 98 (the last one I needed – Avengers 4 completed my Avengers collection to, so it was a good week). I bought a Roboshark t-shirt off of Ivan Brandon (of NYC Mech, and chief of the best comics messageboard), and got lots of “cool, what is that”’s. We bought gifts for those who stayed home (my youngest son <5> got a Yoda lightsaber). I poked my head in the Owlship, saw NPH’s unicorn, and got some Chuck bags (out of Watchmen bags… rats – at least we got the Watchmen t-shirts after the panel). We talked to a few people and ate some nachos. I talked to Jerry Robinson for a while (the dude who created the Joker and and may have first drawn Robin - not sure about that last bit), talked to Mad Magazine marginalia and Groo artist Sergio Aragones, chatted briefly with Kyle Baker, saw Stephen King’s son (Joe Hill nee Joseph Hillstrom King) waiting in the Lego con exclusive set line, and generally took it easy.
It was a wierd con, in some ways. After last year's clean sweep of the independent comics area (I got everything I wanted, tons of sketches and signatures, and talked to lots of nice people), I was hideously unprepared this year and only snagged a few of the things I wanted, which I'm a bit bummed about. I missed the Scott Pilgrim color thing, the previous-post mentioned Tori Amos book, Eddie Campbell's Monsieur Leotard, the American Terrorist preview, a bunch of Picturebox stuff (I walked away with Comics, Comics 4 and the other newspaper thing and got Godess of War signed, but I didn't get back with more money for the Cold Heat specials, etc.), the new Tales Designed to Thrizzle, the F Grampa thing, the mini by Gilberto Hernandez's daughter, or the book by that North/South American collective group (who I LOVE - Cloonan, Ba, Moon, etc) that did 5 last year (was it Pixu? Are those two different things? See, I'm unorganized). The stress caused by spending more money than I have ever spent in one place, added to the worrying about the kids at home, the lack of my usual I-ain't-commin'-back mid-Friday cathartic meltdown (I always feel better afterwards), my somewhat illusionary feeling of being squeezed for time on the floor, and the fact that this week is a bitch at work, made me feel a little down coming out of the con.
Then we piled in for the trip back to Vegas, and the stories started. We buzzed all the way home, bubbling with the fresh memories. I gradually (somewhere around Victorville) realized I had had a pretty frickin' awesome time, but it took everyone else (whose heads were not as far up their asses) to remind me of that. By the time I got back to the house, I was ready to collapse into a satisfied heap.