When I rolled into Baltimore last Friday night, two things were made abundantly clear to me. The weekend would be about two things: comic books and beer.
And not necessarily in that order.
When attending a comic book convention as a creator, the goal is to make sales and promote your books. But it’s also fun. Way fun.
It’s a chance to hang out with the guys all weekend, talk about comics and music and movies and women, and, of course, consume mass quantities of alcohol. And I’m nWhen I rolled into Baltimore last Friday night, two things were made abundantly clear to me. The weekend would be about two things: comic books and beer.
And not necessarily in that order.
When attending a comic book convention as a creator, the goal is to make sales and promote your books. But it’s also fun. Way fun.
It’s a chance to hang out with the guys all weekend, talk about comics and music and movies and women, and, of course, consume mass quantities of alcohol. And I’m not a big drinker per se, but when the comic book dudes get together, the beer goes down fast and often.
So me Rich Henn and Rich Koslowski crashed at the Henn house on Friday and Saturday night (in the suburbs about 40 minutes west of Baltimore), and started off the weekend at Henn’s basement bar slugging down beers and all sorts of martini-type concoctions. And I don’t know about you, but I usually don’t sleep well if I’ve been drinking. Going to bed at 2 am doesn’t help, especially when we needed to be up 7 am to get showered and ready and then drive into Baltimore just to set up for the show, and then work the show until 5 pm.
Then we went back to Henn’s place Saturday night to set up for a party he was hosting for a bunch of other comic dudes who know each other through the CGC–Certified Grading Company–which is a company that grades comic books to establish their quality–and thus their value. And the comic book guys at this party mostly know each other from buying and selling older, more valuable comic books on line and through Ebay.
That night we put down a nice slab of catered Italian food–ziti, chicken marsala and crab cakes–and another two quarter kegs. I can’t remember if we broke into the martini concoctions that night, but I do remember getting a better–although not good–night’s sleep, getting up around 8 a.m., and then driving back to New York reasonably hung over.
A weekend with the comic book dudes isn’t just a weekend. It’s a 36-hour party that kicks my butt up and down the street. And while I’d certainly be up for it again, I can use the rest!
