Odd Thoughts

Posted byrandy@letters-to-rachel.memorialPosted inAlong the Way, Updates From the Abandoned Planet, Conventional BehaviorTags:, , , , , , , , ,

Dearest Rachel –

I’ll be honest; I didn’t know when or whether I’d actually get around to writing you this weekend. It’s why I had something mostly pre-written for Friday – and a good thing, too, as I was too busy once we arrived at the convention to really actually get much written down yesterday. Between wandering through the exhibit hall (and not particularly comprehensively, either – then again, if you’re not looking to purchase anything, there’s not so much to hold my interest. Games and anime are meant to be watched with others, and I don’t have ‘others’ to watch or play with, and don’t get me started on costumes and accessories you might have enjoyed, but I’ve no reason to acquire anymore), grabbing dinner at the nearby mall (which you never got to see in life, but I’ve basically mapped out with Lars since) or waiting for this or that presentation, there hasn’t been a lot of time to jot down notes, especially when on the move.

It wasn’t until I showed up at the Hyatt for their annual Anime Hell presentation that I got a chance to peck out a couple of paragraphs as I stood in line with a number of others waiting to get in.

And by arriving early as I did – because I wanted to get in a call to Dad while I was out, which seems to have worked out reasonably well – I got a seat in the second row, right in front of one of the two main screens. This has to have been the best seating either of us has ever getting for one of these events; you would have thoroughly appreciated this.
I include these two screenshots from the time spent waiting to point out that the event now seems to have become its own ecosystem; it can be watched online (although it obviously doesn’t have the same feel of doing so in the middle of a rowdy crowd of late-night viewers yelling and singing along with some of the clips; there’s very much of a “Rocky Horror” vibe to the moment that an internet screening can’t convey, much like how photographs and video are no substitute for being at a certain place or time). Not that it matters to you where you are, but perhaps those reading over your shoulder might be interested enough to look into it.

But after coming back to the hotel and crashing some time after midnight, I really wondered if I was ever going to be sufficiently awake and focused to be able to give my impressions of our time here.

Then again, given my tendency to wake up as early as I do, I needn’t have worried; even staying up as late as I did, the light streaming in from between the curtains was more than sufficient to rouse me from slumber before six in the morning. The boys have a panel they want to attend at nine-thirty; even if they continue to doze for another couple of hours, I’ll be here to wake them up and get them out the door, should it come to that. Meanwhile, I’m essentially alone with my thoughts for the time being, tapping away at this or that odd thought for your perusal.

Including the fact that yesterday, on the road separating the Hyatt from the convention center, there were these gentlemen laying out, ah, fertilizer on the side of the road as part of the annual spring beautification project (which would be largely ignored, if not outright trampled, by the weekend throngs getting from one place to another). I couldn’t help but take a shot of it and wonder where Biff Tannen might be, to run into all this.

Such is the stuff that goes through my mind of these events, and it’s only by sheer force of will that I remember to take a picture and write down a note or two here or there about what I see. As a result – and I apologize for this – what I can manage to assemble of it all comes across as a bit of an chaotic mess.

But honestly, for all the organization that goes into putting together a convention, that’s what it feels like when you’re in the middle of one. Something that looks orderly and sensible from a bird’s eye view is a place to get lost when you’re in the middle of it all.

For instance, there’s these metal detectors just outside the convention center entrance. The line moves fairly smoothly through them, but generally, people are being waved through without much attention being paid. Granted, on my first pass through them yesterday, I apparently set them off – as well I should have, since my jacket is covered in buttons – and the security team took one look at my jacket and waved me on through. This morning, by contrast, even though I was wearing the same jacket as before, there was no request even to step aside. Apparently, I didn’t set the alarms off this time around, which begs the question as to what would.
I’m not sure if this is a new thing at the convention, or if it just never occurred to us to look for it in the past, but there’s this whole section of tattoo artists offering their services to the otaku community. I realize that having ink on one’s body is as common as dirt these days, but it still blows my mind that this could (let alone should) be an impulse purchase.
Finally, I forget if there were ever food trucks back in the day when you were with us at these events. To be sure, these have been around for at least the last three or four years, but I can’t remember if we had the option back in the day. Not that you would have been tempted by them; it’s weird to do the math in my head and see that a gyro plate would set someone back some three thousand yen. It makes just about anything in Japan – even in Tokyo proper – seem like a bargain. One more reason to keep going back there, I dare say.

Anyway, this is the sort of thing that I find myself seeing and thinking about as I make my way about the convention this past twenty-four hours or so. I’ll see if I can’t have more for you later – there’s one panel this afternoon that I might be interested in – but I can’t promise that I’ll have time to scribble it down one way or another. Still, if you could keep an eye on me, honey, you might be able to experience it in real time with me. Oh, and if you’d wish me well, that’d be welcome, as I could certainly use it.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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