Blog 2: An Incredible Tale of Destiny - Continued

We all crossed the street when the light went green and ended up right in front of the Convention Center.  Loudspeakers blared instructions on where to line up to get badges, which I ignored.  There would be no badge for Johnny on this day.  But I didn’t need no stinking badge as I took it all in.  People were dressed as all manner of fictional characters and most looked pretty great.  I stood around the main entrance for a bit just getting the lay of the land in my nifty How Lost Got Lost t-shirt , and pretty much went unnoticed in the bedlam that was happening all around me.

I didn’t see anyone distributing anything on Convention Center grounds as they were across the street, so I kept a low profile.  I had kind of dreaded this part of the mission, having passed out bookmarks for Roadkill – my other published novel – at the Metro Center and the library back in Glendale, Arizona – where most people acted like I was passing out suicide pills or something just as nasty – but I felt this would be different and looked for a place to get started.

I walked south, as I saw that in the distance there were huge lines of people in roped-off areas waiting for something.  As I walked, I called my comrades on my cell to let them know I’d be at least fifteen more minutes before returning to the truck and was rewarded with, “Take your time, we’re okay here, for now.”

There was literally no place you could go without being within 100 feet of security and I headed for the lines of people in the roped off areas.  I watched for a bit and then went in with, “Lost fans, who’s a Lost fan?”  Several people’s eyes lit up and I was off to the races.  It wasn’t bad giving these things to people who actually wanted them, and they were a captive audience with not much to do but wait, and some of them even engaged me in interesting conversations as I moved through the lines.

I passed out probably 500 bookmarks and ran out as I ran out of people, which was pretty cool. As I headed back to the rendezvous point, I discovered another pack of bookmarks in my back pocket and pulled them out.  I called my partners and told them I was heading back and they said they’d be close when I got there.

There were no more good opportunities to pass out any on the way back so I just enjoyed the scenery.  When I got to the rendezvous point they were only a block away and were there in less than a minute even with the nasty traffic.

I hopped in the truck and asked the girls if they saw any parking a reasonable distance away, and they said no.  We had to make a left on “L” Street, and we were next to a huge parking garage that was full but charging only 12 bucks, when our friend had a brainstorm.

She held up her handicap placard to the guy out front and he simply nodded and waved us in.  We couldn’t make the turn with all the traffic, so we made the left to go up two blocks and come around again.  This took about ten minutes and she flashed the placard again, the guy nodded, waved us in and this time we made the turn.  We were lucky and stuff like that began to happen consistently as the day wore on.  Somehow we were in the zone.

We parked on the ground floor of the structure looking straight across to the Petco center, which would play a huge part in our story a bit later in the day.  The ladies with me had already donned their shirts, and were ready to enter the fray.

We returned to the traffic light at 5^th and “L” and got pictures of the Green Hornet gals and a delighted me in front of the car with two of the lovely lasses.  We joined the crowd to cross and I handed out a few more bookmarks to show my faithful assistants how easy it was, and it wasn’t quite as easy as before, for these folks were fraught with anticipation and purpose.

We crossed and found ourselves right in front of the huge Comic-Con sign where we took pictures. I noticed the lines I had pillaged earlier were gone now, and we were in no man’s land for passing out the bookmarks.  Our friend was eager to get started however, and tried it right in front of one of the ever present event staff people.  I tried to warn her off with a look, but failed, and she was immediately busted with a warning that we couldn’t do that on the Convention Center grounds.  Undaunted, she shrugged it off and we returned to the Green Hornet station to get started doing what we came here to do. 

I left my cohorts to set up shop while I did a walkabout around the entire Convention Center, which included the Hilton just south of it. The walkabout was pretty much a bust, and I only passed out a few bookmarks.  Although our shirts were pretty cool, they were overshadowed by the great costumes many were wearing – but they made us look legit and like we belonged there.  The signs for the trolleys had all been enhanced with Klingon translations for Comic-Con and that was cool, too.  When I returned to my faithful sidekicks, I found them hard at it and joined in, passing out bookmarks and conversing with those who stopped to do so.

I tried to give one to a group of guys from the Mystery Workshop http://themysteryworkshop.com/ , but our friend had already nailed them.  They stopped to talk and made a pitch for their site and were all in complete agreement with my view of Lost’s horrible ending.  They offered to feature me and the book on their site, and I gratefully accepted. As they moved on, one of them called back with, “Hey John, got any more of those great shirts?”

This was something I had actually fantasized about, and my wife had thoughtfully made us all back-ups.  “Sure,” I said, without hesitation, and we met in the middle.  These guys were pretty cool and were here to promote their site, too.  I would join them in that endeavor.

I told them we would have to go back to the truck and asked them if they would actually wear the shirts inside Comic-Con.  The guy said yes, and I believed him.  “The truck is close,” I said, “it’s in that building right there,” I pointed to the parking structure a hundred yards away and we went to it, he, the only one of them accompanying us.  As we walked, I remembered that we had also brought three copies of the book, which my publisher had said I could give away if I labeled it properly with an ARC – Advanced Reading Copy –  sticker on it with the ISBN number and a street date of August 15^th, 2010.  I decided to throw in a book with the shirts.

We had four shirts, and gave them three, which included the shirt I had promised my son.  My wife said, as I protested, “I’ll just make him another one when we get home, don’t sweat it, John.”

You’d think we were done with these guys, but there’s more.  I offered him a book and he gratefully accepted.  I tried to sign it for him, but he had the only pen among the four of us, and it was a clunker which ended up in the trash.  I told him I’d send him a new signed title page when I got home, and he said that would be fine.

We headed back to meet his guys and they were delighted with the shirts.  They asked me to do a quick one minute interview, which they would post on their site when they got home, and I agreed.  I did it with all the flair and spirit of the moment I could muster, and it felt good to me.  But the phone they were doing it on crapped out just then.  I did it over on another phone, and it also felt right.  We talked a bit more and then they left us to it.  Great guys, one and all, and true to their word posted the interview. http://themysteryworkshop.com/blog/the-grind/item/93-tmw-interviews-john-raser-at-comicon-2010.html

To be continued…

In a few days, the exciting conclusion of our thrilling tale of our trip to Comic-Con 2010…