Steve's First Sci Fi Convention. Tragedy ensues.

Okay, again no new stories this last while. I'm beginning to get bummed out over the lack of happenings in my day to day life. Are my days of adventure behind me? All the schemes for adventure I've gotten lately, I've been too timid to carry out. This is probably a good thing. You see, back in the day my schemes were joyous and fun for all. Now my schemes have become dark and twisted and would hypothetically result in mental anguish and minor property damage. Not going through with these evil schemes has some ups and down. While I can't deny "Steve Fights Some Hobos," or "Steve's Night in Prison" would make good stories, it's probably better for me to wait until something else comes along. In any case, since I have time to kill tonight, I'll treat you all to a story that happened last summer. It's pretty geeky, but I'm a pretty geeky guy so that can't be entirely unexpected. Without further ado:

STEVE GOES TO CON-VERSION (tm)

All those who know me know that I have only three weaknesses: Peanut Butter, Atomic Bombs, and Comic Books. Ever since I can remember, I've been enchanted by comics. My happiest memories are getting a huge stack of 4-for-a-dollar comics and getting lost in the various plots and worlds for as long as I could. Now, I could easily dedicate an entire series of posts to my love of these 4 colour wonders, but that would probably bore a lot of you. However, my love of comics and my willingness to to set aside common sense for that love goes a long way in explaining my motivation for the story. You see, comics are tied heavily to science fiction. While I'm not a huge sci-fi fan, My comics experience draws me into that world to some degree. That is the main reason I decided to go to Con-Version last August.

Con-Version is an annual Sci-Fi / Fantasy convention in Calgary and a beacon to an unwashed, uncouth, and generally unloved sub-group of humanity in which I consider myself a reluctant member: Geeks. I trust that all my readers are well acquainted with the stereotypical image of a geek. Many are scary people with scary hobbies and scary interpersonal skills. Some are boisterous and irritating while other are shy and unnoticable. Well, the geek subculture is thriving, though often hidden away in dark basements. Con-Version is where these people converge.

Anyway, I was convinced to attend by geeky friends who, having been to previous Con-Versions, assured me it would be a good time. I knew this would be false, but acting under previously undiscovered suicidal impulses, I allowed myself to be swayed to their way of thinking. "Why not?" I mused. "I need to get out more and meet people. The attendees at this convention will surely share interest with me, and perhaps I will be enriched by the experience. There may also be cute girls, and since I haven't had a date since the Clinton administration, this prospect appeals to me." I wish I could say that I only went along to provide a story for the blog, but the blog honestly wasn't created back then. Looking back now, I like to think that what made me go along on this strange Odyssey (as well as other adventures like October Camping, Gay Clubbing, and Nude Photo Shoots,) was my well-honed sociological instinct. To me, this was a type of ethnographic field research. Also, I'm very suggestible and stupider than I may at first seem.

When I agreed to attending Con-Version, I had no idea what to really expect. I was told that the afternoon would be filled with watching various panels of writers talk about... stuff, and that the evening would have a costume contest, a"slave auction," a dance, and copious amounts of drinking. There was also stuff happening in the morning, but I refused to wake up before noon. Luckily the hotel where the convention was taking place was within walking distance to a friend's house, so I had a place to crash if the drinking went overboard. Armed with such knowledge, I was ready to dive into the seemy underbelly of Sci Fi Conventions.

I gathered with a few friends to attend. Peter, from several previous stories was there, as was Chelsea. A newcomer to these stories, but friend of a few years, Austin, would also be accompanying us. Peter was dressed as a hobbit and Austin was dressed in chainmail armour he had personally constructed. Somewhat embarrassed to be seen walking down the streets with them, I volunteered to drive.

The afternoon was pleasant in a geeky/intellectual way. I remember vaguely sitting in on a half dozen panels and browsing the kiosks and art galleries that had been set-up. The convention was busy, but not overly crowded at this point. Around two o'clock I went to dining room in the hotel and, amazingly, managed to catch the tail end of their breakfast buffet. This has no relevance to the story, but I feel I must mention it nonetheless because I generally enjoy breakfast buffets.

Lulled into a false sense of security by a pleasant afternoon, I went back with Austin, Chelsea, and Peter to their condo for dinner before all the main festivities of the convention started. At this point I kind of geeked out. Urged by the others, I was convinced to wear a costume for the evening portion. Everyone else was doing it, and peer pressure is a bitch. I donned a suit and tie, put on some sunglasses, and grabbed my giant silver supersoaker to go as a Man in Black (from the movie Men in Black, but that probably doesn't need mentioning.) It was a costume I'd used for Halloween a couple of times, and I knew it was pretty good. I wasn't planning on entering the costume contest, but over half the people there would be in costume so it would at least help me fit in. As a side benefit, I knew I looked pretty awesome in a suit and the ladies would be all over me. I didn't recall seeing any attractive ladies that afternoon, but surely they'd be present for the evening.

As I'm writing this, I now have to take a quick break to fight back bitter tears.

Anyhoo, Austin was unable to join us for the evening as walking around in chainmail all day had caused him serious back pain and muscle cramps. I drove the remaining three of us back to the convention where we'd hopefully be arriving right in time to view the costume contest.

When we got there most everyone was in costume, though only a few were entered in the contest. The convention was far more crowded now, but we were able to grab some pretty good seats in the auditorium to watch the contest. The contest was pretty great overall. Lots of awesome costumes and most of the contestants put on short skits. All in all, I had a good time.

Then came the slave auction and things began to go downhill.

The slave auction was a tradition of Con-Version. A whole bunch of people would volunteer to be auctioned off to the crowd to become slaves for an hour. The service had to be mutually acceptable, and all the money raised went to charity. I was convinced to enter. The reasons I agreed to this are to this day not completely known to me. Readers are invited to imagine their own reasons as to why I entered.

I signed up and was escorted with the other slaves-to-be backstage. A lot of people volunteered this year, including Peter, my hobbity friend. We were organized into a line-up backstage and given a slip of paper on which we were to write an introduction for ourselves. I don't completely remember mine, but I called myself Agent S, quoted my skills as alien-hunting, sharpshooting, and macaroni art, and made the tempting promise that I would do pretty much anything if fed enough liquor. I was put near the back of the line and had several enjoyable conversations with other slaves. Notably, a guy dressed like Anikan Skywalker traded me his lightsaber for my big ass gun for a little while so he could shoot at a trio of guys dressed like Storm Troopers. I briefly struck up a conversation with three girls dressed as Bond girls before embarrassing myself and slinking back to talk to some knights.

After a long time, it was finally my turn to go on stage. I walked out onto the stage greeted with cheers and applause. Then the bidding started. The opening bid was $20, which was shouted out very quickly. Then there was a long pause before someone bid $30. And then a longer pause. The announcer began begging for a higher bid. There was dead silence. Someone shouted from the crowd (or rather got one of her previously bought slaves to shout,) "Let's see his ass!" I did a little turn to oblige. A bid for $40 came in and I was sold. I walked over to my owner in mild surprise and embarrassment. $40 was a very shitty price to go for. Some people were being sold for $100. A set of girls dressed like Leia from the Jabba the Hutt scene in Return of the Jedi went for over $300 (which is really very creepy.) $40 was ass. My owner seemed nice enough except she was dressed all gothy and was somewhat frightening. She was a shrewd shopper and had bought several slaves for prices far below the average.

In any case, my owner had a scary/silly goth name that I don't remember now. She informed her slaves (there were 4 of us, I think,) that she was in charge of running the party room for the convention and would appreciate our help in cleaning up and serving drinks. She was really very nice, so I happily agreed. I figured I'd enjoy the dance that would be starting soon, then get my hour of slave duty out of the way by cleaning up after drunks, and then go home to try and forget the humiliation of being only worth $40.

Well, I ran into Peter and Chelsea before the dance started. The were having a good time and laughing merrily. Peter went before me in the slave auction and I casually asked how much he went for. He went for $40 and was just heading off to do his slave work. His "work" was basically hanging out with a group of girls who had bought several slaves just to chat with. At this point I became angry. Though I smiled on the outside, inside I was seething with rage. Peter had gone for the same price as me! Peter! I'm a hundred times better than him! And I was bought out of a mixture of pity and need for scullery work. He was bought because someone actually wanted to buy him! I was livid.

I excused myself from Peter and Chelsea and made my way to the bar. Five rum and cokes later I wasn't feeling any happier. I was prepared to just keep sulking and drinking until I passed out in a corner, but my conscience was nagging me to get my slave duty out of the way first. I wasn't about to cheat goth lady out of $40. I made my way up to the party room where I helped serve drinks and clean up for about 40 minutes. The party room died down a little at that point as more people made their way down to where the dance was beginning. I began to feel a bit guilty at this point. I decided that I shouldn't be so bitter and I should at least try to have some fun at the dance.

The dance was actually pretty fun. After a few more rum and cokes, I was ready to hit the dance floor. The DJ were all geeky naturally, and the music was appropriately geeky. Being a geek myself, I knew all the lyrics and all the dance moves. Dancing to the Time Warp and The Last Saskatchewan Pirate with reckless abandon really helped cheer me up. I think that my newfound (though relatively tiny) happiness somehow triggered my latent idiotic impulses and the good times combined with the drinking was making me bold and stupid. A spied a duo of cute girls dressed as pirates as the Last Saskatchewan Pirate was starting up and headed over to flirt. I was actually doing surprisingly well and enjoyed a couple of dances with them. We took a break after a few songs and I offered to grab some drinks. They shyly refused. At this point I had sobered up quite a bit and the gears in my head began turning. I took a closer look at them, came to a startling conclusion, then politely excused myself. I avoided them for the rest of the night. Later, Chelsea would ask me why I was flirting shamelessly with two 16-year-old-girls. I could only reply that I was an idiot.

After I while I began feeling better again. While flirting with high school girls may be reprehensible, I was pretty sure I didn't say or do anything inappropriate. I could even take a step back and admit how funny it was. With my spirits once again high, I went with Peter and Chelsea the the party room. In the room I ran into goth lady and she said as part of my slave duty I had to come drink with her and her friends. I happily obliged and actually was enjoying myself quite a bit as I sipped at a couple of hard lemonades. The night was dying down and the party room was mostly just people sitting around talking and drinking. At that point, goth lady began hitting on me. This wouldn't be so bad in most cases, but she was clearly drunk, in town for just the weekend, and nearly 10 years older than I was. It was probably foolish of me in some degree to turn down sex, but I still think it was the right thing to do. Besides not being a one night stand kind of guy, I'd been drinking (which kills my libido,) and seriously, she was 30. I wasn't about to be seduced by a woman who could have babysat for me. I wanted to escape, but didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I reverted to an old tactic of mine that I always use when in any kind of semi-romantic situation: I played dumb. This was hard to do as goth lady wasn't very subtle. Nevertheless I pretended to be completely oblivious. When she'd make claims such as , "Drinking always gets me so wild," and "I always try to hook up at these thing," I would just laugh along and try to divert her attentions to other guys. When she got all cuddly, I'd excuse myself to go use the bathroom. When she practically followed me into the bathroom, I just adjusted my tie, combed my hair, and went back to the group. I am like an idiot-savant at pretending to be clueless.

Anyway, it was getting pretty late and I was desperate to escape, so I managed to subtly convince Peter and Chelsea it was time to leave. We walked back to their apartment where I fell asleep on the couch. I awoke 4 hours later at 6:30 the next day, still in my suit and tie. I sleepily exited the condo, and made my way back to the hotel where I found my car and went home.

Was Con-Version a good experience? Not really. I mean parts of it were fun, but I can just go clubbing or to a bar for the same effect and probably not make as much of an ass out of myself. That being said, I know that I'd go again in a heartbeat. Like I said, I'm a geek. I may not be proud of the fact, but the people who attend these things are my people. I don't particularly like them much, but I'll stick with them, no matter what. I don't really know why that is. I could speculate, but the reasons why aren't important. I'm just going to make sure that when I go next year, I fully know what I'm getting into.