As a friend aptly described his four-day vacation just to attend the San Diego Comic Convention as his Ramadan, I must agree with him that a geek fest of gargantuan proportions is a well-worthy reason to endure a typical San Diego heatwave. Crowds get bigger and bigger every year. Geekiness is a popular trend now. I remember a time when all the stuff I used to like was obscure, and it made me (and the rare people who also knew) feel that we were some part of elite club with secret eyes that knew what to look out for. Nowadays, everything is trendy, everything is popular, everything is accessible to the point where hardcore fans, like myself, are just disappointed by the quality of mass merchandising.
I've been attending the Comic-Con for ten years now. Sometimes I still can't believe that I faithfully attend this event every year. I thought I would have outgrown it by now. I'm not into anime as much as I used to be, I'm not reading several comics at one time like I used to, and I'm not an avid collector of junk. Why do I still go? Why do I endure the B.O. of fanboys who neglect their hygiene? Why do I torture my eyes by looking upon scantily-clad fat girls who think they have a size-three-action-figure body? Why are there so many people dressed as Klingons and Storm Troopers? Why are there so many boys with a samurai fantasy? And why do some girls think that being a fag-hag is cool?
Imagination has no limits, but for some, there is that sad state of not knowing where the boundaries of reality are. Every time I go to the Con, I have to prepare myself for the sheer horror of being around people who embrace the freakdom they feel is their "true identity." They're fuckin' funny to watch.