Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

July 12th, 9:12am

Bunz makes a sensational California Omelet. The downside of that breakfast is that I can't stay awake enough to savor the sights of San Diego on the way to the Con.

The shuttle bus pulls to a stop that jostles me awake. "Town and Country Resort". A small group of people pile on. Much like some of the passengers, many of the new arrivals cosplay some anime I don't even pretend to recognize. They seem to be immune to the stares they're getting from the squares. But then...


A young woman boards. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail that hangs about four inches past her shoulders. Skin like a porcelain doll. A black skirt that shows off a pair of red stocking-clad legs. A pair of...I believe they're Mary Jane boots. A black blouse, encasing a decent-sized chest. A cute face; pert nose, brown eyes, but the feature that stands out most are her lips. Pouty, like a model's. She's in a hurry to get to a seat, but time moves so slowly, I'm able to absorb every detail about her.

She carries a poster tube and a sketch pad. I can only assume she's an artist.

The thing about bus rides is that I like my space. I don't let people sit next to me unless I really have to (i.e. there aren't any spaces left to sit). For her, I can't move my backpack fast enough. I smile at her. She smiles at me, likely out of politeness than anything else. She passes right by me. The story of my life. I guess there was a seat behind me. I'm too upset to look where she's sitting.

Yeah, I should get over that. In a matter of minutes, I'm gonna be at fucking Comic-Con! To paraphrase Don Lockwood, 'nobody wears a frown at Comic-Con'.


The bus pulls up in front of the Convention Center. Myself and the many passengers deboard, the Gates of Valhalla awaiting us.

I head for Sails Pavilion, printed confirmation in hand. The 'H' line beckons. I head there to get my 4-day badge. A "Game of Thrones" strap drapes around my neck, holding my badge in place. Where to first?


None of the early panels strike my fancy, so the convention floor, of course. Booth 429 is home to La La Land Records, at least during Comic-Con, and I have been salivating over the new releases of "Batman: TAS - Vol. 2", The Phantom and X2: X-Men United. $100 dollars later, they are mine. I cannot wait to listen to them.

I am truly astounded by how much there is to see and do on this floor. Especially see. The cosplay on display is as astounding as ever. I turn my phone on. Yes, it should always be on, but I like conserving power. That's not illegal, yet.

I have time to kill before the next panel. I may as well get some good shots in.


I'm enjoying this panel more than I thought I would. Mainly because the footage of new "Fairly OddParents" episodes is kept to a minimum. The "T.U.F.F. Puppy" footage looks pretty funny.

The voice actors on the panel crack me up. Jerry Trainor, in particular, is a stitch.


There's nothing like wandering the convention floor and taking in the sights. So far, I've snapped pictures of The Avengers, Dejah Thoris and a sexy Rainbow Dash.

Speaking of "My Little Pony", I come across a wall of T-shirts at one of the vendors. The one that catches my eye features Fluttershy set against Iron Will's Guide to Assertiveness. From the episode "Putting Your Hoof Down". Do not judge me. Thankfully, they have it in my size.

I have to part with twenty-five dollars, but it's worth it. I put the shirt against me to see how I wear it.


I turn, the shirt still draped on me somewhat. If color could drain from my skin, I think it certainly would now.

It's the porcelain angel from the bus. I'm almost too nervous to move. I want to say something, but I feel like my throat's been cut. I try to smile that same smile from the bus, but it's not happening. She probably thinks I'm one of those weird-ass hardcore bronies. I just like the show. I don't live or die by it.

"That's a nice shirt."

Whatever fears develop in my brain evaporate as she starts to smile. Not politely. She seems really happy.

I start to find my voice.

"I wanted the 'Yay' shirt, but they don't make them for guys."

The girl smirks a little. What's she thinking now?

"Well, you can buy it for me."

Is this girl for serious? Now, I've never been flirted with before, except in high school as a joke, so is this really happening?

Before I can register what's happening, I hand twenty-five dollars to the vendor. The vendor hands the girl the shirt.

She pats me on the arm and smiles sweetly.


I snap out of my trance long enough to catch a glance at her badge. Angelica...Geralds.

Somehow, I think I've made a friend. Not sure how, but I did.

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