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So as every geek-related industry gears up for Nerdi Gras (aka San Diego Comic-Con) this week, allow me to present Comic conventions, especially the larger ones, are loud, crowded and almost absurdly expensive.
Even with the convention discount, travel and lodging is going to eat up a not-insignificant amount of your money before you even to the con.
Occasionally quite violently and all over the place.
And in my experiences and never-humble-opinion, comic conventions are a for any relationships that are going to last longer than that weekend.
And the most common way of defraying expenses at the convention?
Sharing a room with half a dozen of your closest friends.
If you thought a girl’s friends were roving cock-blocks in bars, you’ve never seen girls trying to protect their friend from making a mistake at the con. There’s nothing like taking poorly socialized nerds and attractive women – geek or otherwise – and cramming them into the pressure-cooker environment that is your average con.
Somehow this convinces even the most femme-phobic guy that he can win over the heart of his favorite webcomic author with the right combination of arrogance, disdain and an encyclopedic knowledge of Tennant-era Dr. Meanwhile, the model-actress-whatevers who’ve been hired as booth babes to shill for which ever corporation is trying to cynically milk the nerd-dollar are developing that dead thousand-yard stare that is normally found in Vietnam vets as they try to keep their rictus-like grin pasted on while posing for photos with increasingly handsy (and sweaty) nerds as they run down the list of poor life-choices that lead to them being on the con floor and praying for the sweet release of death.