I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk about Rose City Comic Con. It was a great con, but it was also a slightly weird con. I’d planned to just spend two days wandering around the floor having a grand old time, but then the fine folks of The Committee Building got a table for Sunday, so I worked the table on Sunday with the Schkade.
(AKA Maybe don’t let Gayle try to hold it together professionally while there’s cosplay to shout out. Saw some awesome stuff including a couple Captain Marvels and a Tank Girl and a bunch of X-Men and a Sam Winchester, and multiple Deadpools and a She-Hulk and some awesome Kaylees, and the list goes on.)
(AKA, AKA if some short brunette yelled she wanted to sell you a book the last half-hour of con, that was me. Hi. No shame. Sold three books. It was awesome.)
Anyway, one thing about this con that was different from Stumptown was that I made a firm rule I was gonna buy exactly three things: 1. The Chairs’ Hiatus by Matthew Bogart; 2. Something from Kris Straub for the husband; and 3. Something from Erika Moen (Anal Safety Snails postcard! Yay!)
This rule was set in place because I still haven’t finished reading all my great stuff from Stumptown. A problem came into play: I really, really wanted to talk to and get autographs from creators I admired, but I had nothing for them to sign. I hadn’t brought any paper, but I had this awesome shirt, you see. A shirt I bought on preorder-only from the guys who do High Crimes, Chris Sebela and Ibrahim Moustafa.
I love this shirt. I have a serious interest in comic book history, and when I saw this shirt on pre-order, I literally squealed. So, when it came time to figure out how to get the autographs of all these awesome people I dig, I turned to the friend I was with and said, “I’m kind of in the perfect shirt for this.” And she agreed.
And, two hours later, I said, “Fuck pre-order; it’s the perfect shirt. Let’s do this.” And off I went to get signatures.
As I stood talking with my Jesse about one thing or another, this blond guy goes walking by. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him give a double-take. I figure he just caught a glimpse of my shirt and found it funny.
Nope. Turns out it was Chris Sebela himself whose table I couldn’t find because RCCC was really well laid out as long as you weren’t in the P section. He had spotted his work, and when Jesse flagged him down because she knew I was looking for him to sign my shirt, he told me he was trying not to come off creepy.
In case you were curious: Chris Sebela is a very nice guy, and I’m very pleased to have gotten his signature, and to then get Moustafa’s as well. And then I got Lieber and Moen at basically the same time, and I went to Rucka’s table, and the fabulous Jen Van Meter was there and signed her name, and then Rucka seemed slightly surprised I would want anyone to sign this awesome shirt of mine, but when I turned around, he went for it.
In short, having this shirt turned out to be one of the great moments of the con for me. It led to some great conversations about comic book history and was also just a great deal of fun to have signed. Everyone got it and seemed to appreciate it, and now i just have to figure out how to wash a shirt covered in Sharpie.
There are other Rose City stories. I’ll get to them. For now, just know that all those comic people you wonder about? They’re exactly as nice and awesome as you think they are. And I’m happy every chance I get to be among them.