Last month thousands upon thousands of comic book fans, movie fanatics and other people living in a fantasy entirely of another's making invaded San Diego.
Yup, the spectacle known as the San Diego Comic-Con had arrived yet again, bringing with it people from another world.
There were the guys who had first edition comic books waiting to be signed by artist, thereby increasing the comic's value ten-fold (nevermind they will never sell them); there were women who had somehow stuffed their larger frames into Princess Leia's slave outfit from "Return of the Jedi;" men lurking around dressed as pirates and vampires; and kids who were totally spastic without sucking on sugary treats.
And then there were Aaron, Jon, Kevin and Mike – our friends who were in town especially for the Comic-Con.
Aaron is
Aaron Yamasato of "Blood of the Samurai" and "Ninja EX;" Jon is
Jon Murakami, the artist and my "Poi Cats" partner; Kevin is Kevin Sano, also talented artist; and Mike is Mike Farineau, Derek's good friend from high school.
The guys were at the Comic-Con for different reasons: Aaron wanted to network with film professionals; Jon and Kevin were there to sell their work; and Mike was there to indulge his comic book fanaticism.
In the meantime, Derek tagged along with the guys to also partake of the fanboy extravaganza. I was grateful to have the guys there; I'm usually tapped out after just two hours at the Comic-Con. While I enjoy comics (anything by Jon, Stan Sakai's "Usagi Yojimbo" and trusty ol' Archie and the gang), there's something about that frantic energy buzzing from the convention that makes me feel as though I've run a hundred miles fueled only by three Skittles. Plus, I admit that the creepy guys salivating over the girls dressed like Sailor Moon make me want to have 911 on the speed dial of my cell phone.
Anyway, there's something to be said about bringing a bunch of guys together for an event of this magnitude. They giggled over their various idols; they raved about upcoming films, such as "The Watchmen;" and they subsisted on Comic-Con hot dogs and soda. These men – these grown men whose ages varied from 35 to early 40s – turn into a gaggle of 7th grade boys.
Worse, I wondered whether I needed to use that 911 speed dial on myself since I was now married to a 7th grader.
And of course, because we're from Hawaii and friends are ohana, Mike and Aaron actually crashed at our place. At first, it was only supposed to be Mike, who was in from Washington D.C. But then Aaron went to his motel and spent a sleepless night listening to cops in the room next door discuss dusting the place for prints and oh, did anyone want a breakfast burrito?
Needless to say, Aaron had to stay with us. We love him and don't want any of those violent scenarios he loves to direct to be someday based on experience.
So every morning the guys would head out, wearing various black T-shirts (a must for any Comic-Con attendee), armed with various goodies and ideas about the day.
While Jon and Kevin worked everyday at their designated table, Mike, Aaron and Derek stalked the aisles and sat through oodles of panels.
Alas, throughout the week, one of them lived a secret life amid the chaotic fun, not unlike that of a comic book superhero. One of them seemed an enthusiastic fanboy, but in reality was a mild-mannered thirtysomething who longed for the stability of regular sleephours and a daily half-hour nap.
Guess who that was?
Derek started out excited enough. He went with the guys to the preview night, a late-night showing of "The Dark Knight" on IMAX. By the time they got home, it was about 2 a.m. Still, the next day the guys headed out to the Comic-Con for a fun-filled day. This time, however, Derek begged off from the rest of the day to return home and "check on Gen." He slept for an hour and relaxed in the quiet comfort of home.
The day after that Derek began to show signs of totally breaking free. This time, Derek returned in the middle of the day, again, to "check on Gen." Once again, he got into his tank top and shorts and climbed into bed for a brief nap. After a short snooze, Aaron called Derek to remind him that the Robert Rodriguez panel was in a couple of hours. Derek dutifully got dressed – he really does like Rodriguez, though I'm unsure of whether the admiration is stronger than his love of a good nap – and set out again for the Comic-Con.
Then, on Friday, Derek and Mike joined me and our friends, Maddy, Becca and Tyler for dinner. It was a great time that lasted until Derek and Mike had to leave for some midnight Elvira showcase. That night the guys got home at around 3 a.m.
On Saturday, Derek could no longer hold back from exposing his true identity. He was Mr. Thirtysomething, a man who required rest and three regular meals. After taking Aaron to the airport, Derek returned home to sleep most of the day. By Sunday, when Mike went to visit his sister, who also lives in San Diego, Derek was almost caught up with his sleep.
That night Derek and I went to dinner with Jon and Kevin, who had been practically chained to that table the whole time. As we sat with our friends, Derek and I relaxed as Jon and Kevin described their Comic-Con experience, which was markedly different from the one I heard from the other three men. Sitting behind the table is quite a unique adventure, one that I couldn't possibly relate as well as the brave souls who lived it.
Instead, the only adventure I can best describe is the one of Mr. Thirtysomething, a man who disguised himself enough to appear to be a 7th grader fanboy for a brief few days before his real age caught up with him, forcing his true superhero to the surface.
Mr. Thirtysomething bravely faces the giant Ugly Dolls at the 2008 San Diego Comic-Con
