OK everyone. So NYCC has been over for weeks and weeks. This is the kind of hard-hitting journalism that got me
rejected from journalism school made me the valued former Daily Texan staffer that I was for several years (so basically: the comics editor). I can’t write any more blogs until I post this one, so here. Take it! Take all my memories!
I embarked to New York City with one of my very best friends, the amazing and talented Victoria. We were just two young Texans (at heart—V’s from Alabama, and I’m from every boring Army base in the continental US), yet we voyaged to New York City, fueled by our love of comics and our desperate need to get out of Texas for a little while.
Victoria and I met a lot of cool people while we were at NYCC. We spoke with Terry Moore, who is a very kind person in real life.
NYCC was like a force of nature specifically designed to bring us down. We met a good number of Victoria’s personal heroes. I got to speak with Karen Berger, my personal hero, but I also think I saw Maury Povitch somewhere in the crowd. That might have been one of my high points.
We owe our sanity to this distinguished establishment: Twins Pub, in Midtown Manhattan, home of the most wonderful and earnest New York bartender that we tourists had ever met.
It seemed that time after time, when the pressure of not seeming like a total doop in front of people we really admired got us down, we’d somehow find ourselves at Twins. One late night in Queens, we decided to try and find the East Village in spite of several cancelled trains and somehow we still found our way to Twins.
If you want to know what I did at NYCC, I can sum it up pretty neatly:
1) I did not attend any panels, because I forgot all the ones I wanted to go to. Boo!
2) I got really irritated at having girl butts in my face all damn day. If you like girl butts, NYCC is the place to go. You can see all manner of butts. I am in favor of butts, as a rule, but I did not like that any time you sat down you were surrounded by a posse of almost naked girl butts.
I do not believe in shaming/feeding attention to those who showcase their butts in public places, so this is my artist’s rendition.
(Hah, I tricked you! I’m an editor!)
3) I learned that I may or may not be woefully inadequate at becoming an editor, but if that fails, someone will maybe end up giving me an award for this annoying persistence thing I’m developing.
I’m sure that if you are still reading, you’re only still here because you want to see some sweet fricken cosplay. Well, your patience has been somewhat rewarded.
There are more pictures (of both cosplayers and of myself and Victoria eating sundry NYC foods, which I am sure is both fascinating and impressive), but I think this is the best of what I’ve got.
Pretty much, NYCC was a terrifying, exhilarating mess and I will never do it again (until next fall).