Dragoncon - You Will (Not) Understand

© Copyright 2012/2013 DCI, Inc

It was as though I’d come home.

That’s what it felt like the first time I stepped into the lobby of the Hyatt Regency at Peachtree Center that Labor Day weekend of 2002. It’s really been over ten years? Sure didn't feel like it.

It was a Thursday, before the convention actually began. Early arrivers like me were trundling in through the glass revolving door, carts stacked five deep with luggage and delicate outfits on hangers sharing space with Igloos and cardboard boxes full of Irish whiskey and dark rum. There were families sitting down for their first meal after a long drive to Atlanta, overpriced buffet notwithstanding. Lanky high schoolers already populated the second floor balcony outside the con Hospitality Suite, waiting for the chance to fill up on free munchies, watching us all with the weird mix of envy and disdain common among teenagers. And there were cosplayers, fully kitted and posing for pictures, strutting about as though the lobby were one big runway.

A typical Thursday in the Hyatt lobby.

Dragoncon has been going on for decades now, having celebrated its 25^th anniversary in 2011, drawing thousands of fans from around the world into the humid, sweaty and sometimes rainy heart of Atlanta. Where by day the pulse is the thousand footfalls of the official costume parade and the zombie walk, and by night it's the heavy thud of the speakers from the Cruxshadows concerts and the drum circles.  The locals occupying that one square mile of downtown Atlanta loved every year of it. It's not unusual to them, seeing their customers wearing full ‘trooper armor, Cobra uniforms, or dressed as Spike Spiegal and Red Sonja. And the majority of them, well behaved and generous with the drink orders, who could complain about that? Hell, even some of the hotel staff, at least in the Hyatt, broke out their Halloween wear and dressed up for the occasion.

Oh you poor dumb kid, you have no idea what's ahead...

I was still a little wet behind the ears when it came to conventions. I’d been to smaller cons in the East, including Gateway Con (St. Louis), Exoticon (New Orleans), and Fantasm (also in Atlanta). But Dragoncon was my first major, massively attended comic book and sci-fi convention. Attendance in the previous conventions numbered in the hundreds, maybe approaching one thousand. But this … this affair was over 30,000 geeks, freaks, and nerds, ten percent of which were right in front of me that afternoon in one hotel alone. It was nearly overwhelming.

And I’d come alone.

But that didn't bother me (much). Flying solo, that was my S.O.P. and I was used to it. It'd be fantastic to have company, but if I waited around for someone to say “count me in,” I’d never go anywhere. And none of my friends back home were into this kind of outing, not all the way across the country. They didn't see the point of going to all that trouble and expense when I could play games or drink while staying in town. They just didn't understand.

Another spontaneous drum & bagpipe circle emerges.

And at first I tried to explain why I kept going nearly every year. I'd tell them about the adventure, the stories I brought back of who I saw and what I did, because I was excited and it was great to share it. I may as well have been describing socks given me for Christmas. They listened, but it was out of politeness. The only question they ever asked was whether I got laid while I was there. And when I told them no, and that wasn't why I went, they'd say "oh," and then start talking about their job or dating woes or a new restaurant. After a few years, it finally dawned on me that it was no use. "Oh I had a blast," was all I would share, and then change the subject. And why not? They didn't understand. I (don't) think they tried.

Smiles, everyone, smiles! See, Venom's got it!

Perhaps you’ve heard this all before, from countless events. The names may change: Chicago Comic Con, Phoenix Comic Con, the big wahooni in San Diego. Or even thinking about how it all rates against events like Gencon, or Pennsic, or E3. But you must be thinking, it’s just another big con. You’re thinking, maybe someday when I’ve won the lottery I will check it out. You’re thinking, yeah, I’ve seen and done crazier. You’re thinking, going all the way to Georgia when there’s parties and little cons to be found right here? Not worth the expense.  You can think all of this, but you don’t know. You're not there. No one knows what it's really like, you have to see it for yourself. You have to take the red pill.

Emerald Rose performing during the day. Big crowd, man.

And I’ll be the first to tell you that the red pill is a goddamned undertaking. Those of you thinking about cost are right to think twice. Just getting there is not cheap. The airfare from Phoenix to Atlanta can range as high as $400, but can also be lower than $200 during fare sales. The Delta Airlines hub in Atlanta makes these fares frequent and reasonable. Hotel rooms can approach $200 a night before tax, and unless you have roommates, the effect on your Visa bill is going to be like dropping a cinderblock on your foot. That’s assuming you nail down that reservation, some hotels requiring the first night as a deposit. The competition begins the morning that the room blocks open. Then there’s the badge itself, where the cheapest you can get is right after the last convention, for 2013 it starts at $85. However, if you buy your badge early and find yourself unable to attend, the convention does have an exchange process where you can sell it to another attendee so you won’t be out all of the money.

The good news, however small, is that once you arrive, reaching Dragoncon is the easy part. Atlanta has a light rail called MARTA that runs from the airport directly to the Peachtree Center, so you can walk up escalators and stairs directly to the hotels. Yes, we all scream “THIS! IS! MARTA!!!”

 

"No, YOU shall not pass without an interview!"

Dragoncon really does have a little something for everyone. (You can go down the rabbit hole yourself at www.Dragoncon.org, or check out a brilliant PBS documentary called “Four Days at Dragoncon” either on your local station or at video.pba.org/video/2065738625) Yes, there’s a vast amount of gaming. Yes, there are two floors of merchant tables and demos. There are panel tracks covering everything from comic books, literature and Firefly to wrestling, hard science and robot battles. There are concerts going on all day and well into the night by performers like Voltaire, Mark Gunn, the Brobdingan Bards and The Cruxshadows. There was even a panel about homebrewing beer with samples given to the audience. What a great panel; the first time I found it, I sat next to an adorable pixie from Maryland who wound up hanging out with me all the following night.  (Never heard from her after that. A shame, really ... but that’s con. Sometimes you make a longtime connection, and sometimes it lasts only until sunrise. Enjoy the time; you never know how much you have.)

These guys were more popular than the movie.

Like many cons, themed parties are held in the ballrooms at night, and they are spectacular. Steampunk dances, Battlestar Galactica meetups, and Browncoat shindigs pepper the agenda, along with various raves. Not to be outdone, plenty of attendees will bring their own fun, hosting room parties themed by whatever they haven’t done in the past five years or so.  Some parties are invite only, some parties are jam-packed with people (and not always in a fun way), but you will find the most amazing people. I made a lot of friends at the parties, some of whom came just for the parties and completely skipping panels and gaming. I knew someone who hosted a “Cookies & Punch Social” social for all her friends on opening afternoon every year, where the punch was based on whiskey sours or hurricanes and little rubber duckies were everywhere. A Southeast party crew by the name of Con*tourage hosted parties that you could only secure admittance to with a password from their message board … and by the power of GREYSKULL, the things they did to their hotel suite make me question whether they ever got back a deposit.

"Yes it's cold, TAKE THE PICTURE."

The weather in Atlanta, when it's hot, it's muggy and cannot be ignored, even with skybridges linking the three main hotels. And sometimes, at night when the rain is coming, the wind blows fucking cold. And sooner or later, you will have to step outside. Whether it's the smoking patio, or walking beyond the main hotels for smaller panels or gaming or just to grab a beer at any of the Peachtree restaurants and bars, it can't be avoided. It's the South, you gotta expect that. And the crowds, you will believe that all 30-40,000 attendees are right on top of you between panels. The foot traffic can get so thick, the fire marshall switches from civil servant to shadowy bogeyman, threatening to shut it all down if the pathways aren't cleared in case of emergencies. The crowds will make one yearn for their nice air-conditioned hotel room, where you can watch the popular panels on “Dragon*Con TV,”  broadcast on the hotel closed circuit TV along with original material in the form of "bumpers."  They're on YouTube, check 'em out.

The red pill is not to be taken lightly. But worth it? Fuck yeah.

Fans, you just can't escape 'em.

Oh, I know you have stories of your own. Where you’ve been to a con, thrown parties with your buddies, gotten shit-faced in good company that poured you back into your room, then laugh about it the next morning, seen and done things far outside your comfort zone. But not like this. Do you understand what I'm (not) saying?

For as long as I’ve been going to cons, fandom has been an welcoming, accepting community. It’s why I’ve found fan groups to join, to recapture that feeling of somewhere I belong. But nowhere else have I ever had an experience like Dragon*Con. I've literally stumbled into parties there, where I was only let in thanks to new friends I’d just met that afternoon. Where I watched a private demo of a violet wand on a sub’s piercings before I understood anything about the lifestyle. Where I could sit on the patio at ten in the morning before the reg desk opens, toasting to the weekend with complete strangers sipping quality whiskey from flasks and dollar bottles we were all carrying. Ten in the fucking morning. Where for a few days all 30,000 of you are compadres.

A room party photo without flash, better than pixelating!

It’s not only what I found there, it’s what I took away. If not for Dragon*Con, I’d never have sought out fan groups in search of that same sense of belonging and fun at home that I’d found in Atlanta. I’d never have travelled through the Southeast enjoying the hospitality and history. I've have never made all the friends I have now, never learned a few new things like how mead and beer are brewed, or how to sew and costume. I’d have never even met my movie co-reviewer Kat, living all the way in Tennessee, knows me better than anyone, and has my back even when I’m being shtoopid. I would never have come out of my shell.

That’s what I tried to explain, why I wanted to bring more people to this mad event. And once or twice, I even succeeded. An adventure is better when it can be shared. But the majority of everyone I told about this con would give me that same look of polite attentiveness, and ask me that same question, whether I got laid. As if that was the entire point of my trip. And suddenly, for the briefest of moments I felt very, very alone. You (don't) know what that's like.

You see, it isn’t the size of Dragon*Con that makes it special. It’s not the width, breadth and depth of the activities pumping at all hours. It’s not the location, that’s for sure. It’s all of that together, all bound together with that feeling of community, of belonging. It all comes together as this enormous, fantastic second life where you feel that for one long weekend, you’ve come well and truly home. Where even if they don’t know your name, even if they won’t remember, they’ll ask and shake your hand because they’re glad to see you. That’s fantastic.

That’s why I’ll go back. I’ll always go back. Even if I do it alone again, because once I’m there, once I feel the tiles of the Hyatt lobby and the buzz in the air, I can close my eyes and believe I’m where I belong. That I’m not alone. That I will never, ever be alone.

That’s Dragon*Con.  You will (not) understand.

Photo credits: Dragon*Con logo and banner are copyright and property of DCI, Inc. All other photos shown, source and author: David Ramirez