Friday, July 24, 2009

The San Diego Comic-Con doesn't mean to keep hitting me, I just make it so angry...

Wednesday, 11:30pm: We arrive at our hotel...

Which is not a hotel. It is, in fact, a hostel-hotel, which really just means HOSTEL. Like, the Eli Roth kind. Okay, okay, there's a little less torture. So far.

But you think the website would clearly mention things like your room being smaller than a Cracker Jack box, a complete lack of air conditioning or garbage can in the room and oh, I almost forgot -- COMMUNITY BATHROOMS AND SHOWERS. Now, I liked college, and shower caddies and shoes have a place in my heart, but I wasn't planning on ever going back. Certainly not this weekend. But here I am.

Fine. Whatever. It's only four days.

Thursday, 8:45am: We get in line to register...

Except that there are three lines, all of which we're told are registation lines. They're all long, but we've been through this before. 20 minutes, max.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Our line snaked around 17 different corners of the building (okay, 23 corners), each one of which looked like it could have been the end of the line. I repeat: Ha. Ha. Ha.

Finally, after walking a half mile (no, really), past the building, the parking lot, past the marina and the orchestra rehearsing there, and wrapping around the other side so that we couldn't even see the Convention Center, we came to the end of the line.

At this point I called our very nice marketing head who had offered me Thursday tickets just two days ago and whom I had run into at breakfast and left a voicemail begging for said tickets. Alas, it was not to be.

All of this would have been fine except that, an hour into our wait in line, I called a friend of mine who got into a different registration line after us... He was already inside, waiting for a panel. Buh-wuh?

Oh, wait, there's more. His line took 15 minutes. FIFTEEN MINUTES!!! And why did this occur? Because the ELITE Comic-Con staff (I'm not making fun of them, I swear, that's just what their shirts say) had neglected to cut off the line, despite the fact that people were literally WALKING RIGHT IN on the other lines. You know, as opposed to standing for two hours in the ever-warming sun. (Okay, I am making fun of them a little bit. I get that this is a tough job and people here can be dicks and there's, oh, 150,000 of us, but still... get it together.)

I won't even talk about their decision to have all the lines for the bigger panels outside this year.

But people seemed to love the Cloudy panel... and I got a Star Trek com badge/USB drive... okay, Comic-Con, I still love you.

You knew I couldn't quit you. I'll be better, I promise.


David Anaxagoras said...

Two years ago I happily registered for Comic Con on the first day registration opened, then clicked over to reserve a hotel room. All the hotels were sold out. Before registration even started. Because they don't take deposits or require registration.

I was so pissed, I demanded my money back from Comic Con (got it) and refused to go this year.

I'm feeling a little left out, though, like everyone's at a big party and I'm home alone. It's like high school all over again. So maybe I cut off my nose to spite my face, but then again -- face spited, that's worth something.

Posts like yours help me feel a bit better, but I it's worth the trouble overall and I'd really like to go next year. Just have to remember -- book hotel early.

David Anaxagoras said...

that last paragraph should read, "but I HOPE it's worth the trouble..."

Josh said...

It was worth it. Annoying start, but worth it.