As a fairly relaxed sort of person, I’d normally champion this cookie fortune. However, and there’s always a however, today was Oz Comic Con day and I’ve never been in a bigger rush to leave a place like I experienced today. Well maybe once when I was at the destitute Olympic village in Heidelberg here in Melbourne. Ever been there? Depressing isn’t it?
Arrived at about 9.45am ticket in hand ready for a day of hugging people in costumes and spending more money than I should on comics. I saw lots of people lining up and thought these must be the ill prepared, lucky I bought ahead! Wrong, so wrong it was three different kinds of wrong.
The line for ticket holders stretched from outside the convention centre at around the marker for door three, snaked toward the Yarra (yup, the opposite direction of the entrance), wound back around along Clarendon St, up the only visible ramp to the entrance of the centre (not Comic Con) and then continued inside.
As with most of these kinds of events, you line up to get in and that’s part of the fun. That’s where I start picking out who gets hugged first, what’s going to feel better to squeeze (didn’t see any wookies so it wasn’t looking promising). The line is the scenery on the way to my destination. I don’t like to rush it, but I like for it to at least move. And movement didn’t figure in this line.
At 10.10am after finally getting inside the centre and feeling like we might be getting somewhere, I glanced to my left and realised that it was not longer straight to the gate. We had a quadruple bended zigzag to pass though before the final straight. My glance turned to a stare because, well, I had enough time. No one was moving. And it was at this point when I realised three things, three kinds of wrong;
1. the map for the event listed only a few comic stands,
2. they’d filled the venue to capacity and weren’t letting anyone else in until people left, and
3. I’m going to need a toilet, a coffee, and a cigarette in that order over the next half hour.
Assessing the situation I estimated at least a further one and half hours before we got a look in so I turned to my ever patient partner, shook my head and said the most honest words to pass my lips since saying ‘I hope I can find issue one of Scratch 9 inside, I lost my last one.‘ Those words were “I’d gladly see this $20 ticket as my paying to not stand in this line another minute.” And with that, we left. And I cried from my left eye a little.
You know what pisses me off the most about it? No, I don’t either there’s too much to pick out just one thing.
Essentially my destination probably wouldn’t have been worth racing for given the lack of comic stands at a comic convention. With that in mind, I couldn’t even make the most of the scenery. It was saddening to me knowing I wasn’t alone in my growing ire at the queue.
Comic expos are really exciting to line up for, there’s a shared buzz and a real sense of community and belonging. But today Oz Comic Con destroyed it by being as well organised as a nappyless six month old with gastroenteritis.
Well done you idiotic wankers. I’m sure the guy outside in the wheelchair was really heartened by the fact that you chose to clog the ramp with disgruntled ticket holders when there are plentiful other entrances to the centre. And Melbourne Convention Centre, you’re a pack of fools for giving these kids the keys to the car.
Sometimes racing to your destination (ie, the car upon leaving) yields the sweetest scenery – Oz Comic Con disappearing into the background.
Lucky Numbers: 1, 6, 33, 34, 38, 45
1; finger up to you Oz Comic Con
How did you know that, fortune cookie? 