Comic Connection

“Hey Grace, I’m going to go walk the floor, I’ll be back later,” I said knocking my cane on the table full of shirts. Quinn doesn’t even look up from his phone, he just grunts. “Okay, boss-man,” said Grace giving me an overexaggerated wink. “Hey Quinn, I know you’re my best friend and I hired you to just hang out with me but how about you try and do some work today. This is comic-con dude, I’m paying you to talk comics with people for a living, enjoy it more” I said putting my green bowler on.

“Dude, you’re a billionaire, it’s not like selling comics and t-shirts really means that much?” he said putting his phone away and getting to his feet. I stare at him before responding “My wealth aside, just do what I ask man, and at least pretend I’m your boss for like a day and a half?”

“Fine, but you’re not allowed to sexually harass me anymore. Deal?” he joked. “When we get an HR person you can bring that up with them. Grace you’re my number two and number 1 best employee, please make sure this idiot has fun and enjoys his work?” I said to Grace before turning and walking away.

“You heard him, now dance monkey bitch! Sell those shirts! Sling those books!” I could hear her laughing manically as I left the hall.

I really do appreciate them both. They make running a comic book shop worth every second. Quinn has always been by my side, through the good and the bad. He’s a solid friend and the only person who will argue about what’s really happening in the Mushroom Kingdom and how Mario is really the bad guy. Grace has only worked for me for about a year but she’s great at everything she does. I rely hard on her to basically run my shop and I pay her very well for it. She’s also an encyclopedia for everything DC comics. She is who you want on your team for comic book trivia, that’s for damn sure.

If you don’t know anything about how these kinds of things work, I’ll explain. When you go to a big convention like ECCC (Emerald City Comic Con) wearing a good costume you sign an unwritten contract that when someone asks you if they can take your picture you have to say yes. It is kind of built into the nerd code. People are always very polite and awesome at ECCC so it feels good to pose and play with other people who are also dressed up.

This year I am dressed as the Riddler. I probably spent too much money to get the suit custom-made. The gold-plated question mark topped cane was worth more than my Prius but I hope no one knows that. The hardest part is dealing with the domino mask. I had it molded to my face but the band holding it on rips hair out of the back of my head like nobody’s business but it’s worth it to look as good as I do.

I love this place. It just feels like home. It's killer to see so many people that are just in love with their hobbies mingling together without a care in the world. It’s so fascinating to see how many personality types can co-exist in a single space without clashing horribly. But that’s the thing about comic-con, people are just awesome and happy to be there.

As I make my way around the convention I stop for anyone who asks and pose dramatically each and every time. This year I kind of knew that people would probably ask for some kind of riddle so I had one locked and loaded. “Riddle me this Riddler?” asked a young girl dressed as Charmander. “Oh child, I have just the riddle for you. What is always on its way, but never arrives?” All the people around were shouting different things but no one knew the answer. I waited for the random shouts to cease and twirled my can in my hand and shouted “Tomorrow!” and ran away laughing.

There is just something freeing about wearing a mask. It must be how Batman feels. I have tried to understand him as a character since I was a kid and even sometimes I’ve used Batman as my own mask. I have used all my deep knowledge of him to seem smarter than I really am and keep people from asking about my life. It works way better than you might think. It’s also probably that I surround myself with semi-shallow people who don’t push too hard to know more either.

I keep doing round until my feet start to scream at me. I take a second to lean on the wall and scroll through my Twitter feed. So many different updates from the ECCC Twitter account, it’s hard to keep up. I need like ten copies of me to really do everything there is. Just as a slide my phone in my pocket a pair of shiny black pleather hands grab me by the wrist. I look up bewildered into the eyes of the Catwoman of my dreams.