Wolf 359 convention, part 1

Originally published July 12, 1996, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1182

Various and miscellaneous goings-on at Wolf 359, a Star Trek/Babylon 5 convention held in Blackpool, England, the weekend of June 10. Although I’ve attended conventions in both Ireland and Scotland, this is the first time I’ve spent any more time in England than was required to change planes at Heathrow.

* * *

The flight over was uneventful, unless one counts the two–count ’em, two–infants in the adjoining aisle. They spent most of the trip tag-team crying. One would get tired, and then while that one rested the other would step in. There was a period, though, when both of them were sound asleep. It was great watching people tip toe past them during that time; no one wanted to be the one to wake them up accidentally.

I was seated forward in the cabin, so instead of having the regular sized screen for the in-flight movie, I had a screen approximately the size of a floppy disk on the wall in front of me. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if the movie hadn’t been White Squall. A typhoon loses something on a three and a half inch screen.

On the other hand, the return flight movie was scheduled to be Happy Gilmore with Adam Sandler. Maybe the screen would be even smaller.

* * *

Several of the folks from Babylon 5 had already been in England for a few days. During their pre-convention time, Bruce Boxleitner and Bill Mumy (according to Boxleitner’s account during a convention panel) decided to engage in a sort of busman’s holiday by swinging by Forbidden Planet in London.

They spent an hour and a half in the store, surrounded by Babylon 5 books, magazines, t-shirts, posters. A solid ninety minutes, during which time they were recognized not at all. No one came over to them, no one glanced their way.

And it’s not like they were subtle about it. After a time, in rather loud voices, Bruce was saying things like, “Hey, Bill, this interview with you in this magazine is really good,” and Bill would point out another publication and respond, “Yeah, but you look great on this cover, Bruce.”

And no one recognized them. If there is an Actors’ Hëll on Earth, this was it.

As for myself, I’m still not sure whether they were genuinely unrecognized, or whether the generally polite British fans spotted them but simply figured, “They probably want to be left alone” …thereby doing them a supposed service when in fact being ignored was exactly what they didn’t want.

* * *

The main convention organizer was Brian Cooney, a lean fellow who’s always poised slightly forward as if he’s in motion while standing still, like a Carmine Infantino drawing. Brian was in the front lobby to greet me practically the moment I stepped into the hotel. He apologized profusely as we discovered that my room wouldn’t be ready for five hours, so I went upstairs to a staff room and passed out on the couch from jetlag.

* * *

Opening ceremonies introduced all the guests. Other Babylon 5 attendees, besides Boxleitner (Captain Sheridan) and Mumy (Lennier) were Stephen Furst (Vir), Andreas Katsulas (G’Kar), and Joe Straczynski, the series creator. Rene Auberjonois of Deep Space 9 was also in attendance.

Brian Cooney stayed with all the guests in the green room. Then we were brought downstairs to be backstage (where Brian managed to be as well), making our entrances with huge clouds of smoke, occasional flares, and musical accompaniment. The Tony Awards didn’t have this much hooplah.

Andreas was a surprise guest, a last minute substitute for an ailing Michael O’Hare. He was announced last, and as the crowd of 1700+ went nuts, Andreas came out pushing a large broom as if cleaning up after everyone else. It was a masterfully funny moment, particularly considering that Andreas is not the most comfortable of people when it comes to conventions.

* * *

A guy came up to me and said, “I love your work on Babylon 5.”

Having written two episodes, it was a legitimate enough comment to hear. “Thanks,” I said.

“I love the character you play,” he told me.

I stopped, blinked in confusion. It took me a moment to process the comment, and then I understood.

“I’m not Vir,” I said, referring to the heavyset aide to Londo Mollari.

“What?”

“I’m not Stephen Furst. I don’t play Vir. I’m Peter David.”

“Oh,” he said with a vaguely disappointed air, and left.

* * *

I called home to let them know I had reached England safely. There was a newly recorded message informing callers that “Peter, Shana, Guinevere, Ariel and Pandora” couldn’t get to the phone. This was interesting news since I had zero idea, beyond the mythological reference, who Pandora was.

* * *

Kristian Ayre is the young actor who plays “Radu” on Space Cases. Upon hearing about the convention, and learning that Bill and I would both be in attendance and doing a presentation about our show Space Cases (which will be debuting in the United Kingdom in October on Nickelodeon), Kristian decided to fly out to the convention on his own dime to see it.

We kept him in reserve as a special guest for Saturday morning. Bill and I talked about the show a bit, then ran the episode entitled “Who Goes Where” because (a) it’s loaded with Babylon 5 in-jokes, and (b) it’s a good showcase episode for Kristian. We then announced Kristian’s presence to the audience and brought him on stage to the thunderous welcome of the crowd. Kristian has family living in England and they were all in attendance, kvelling at the response.

We informed the fans that this was Kristian’s very first convention, and they immediately embraced him in the figurative (and, in some cases, literal) sense. It was a bizarre sensation for him at first, but he took to it very quickly. No teenager ever questions genuine adulation.

Weirdest question from the audience was directed to Bill: “There was an old movie serial entitled Atom Man vs. Superman. Do you wish you could play Clark Kent and have Peter be Atom Man?”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that question.

* * *

I went to an autographing session. Brian Cooney was supervising it. It was beginning to dawn on me that Brian Cooney–like Savoir Faire–was everywhere. I’ve been to any number of conventions where not only the chairman, but the entire organizing committee, evaporates the moment the con starts. Not Wolf 359. Everyone I looked, at any time, Brian Cooney was walking by, nodding, walkie talkie to his ear, barking orders and overseeing some new crisis. When I mentioned this to Brian, he said that his nickname is Ubi (Latin for “Where”.) Me, I’ll stick to calling him Savoir Faire… or perhaps the Multiple Man, since there may have been more than one of him running about.

Kristian brought 8 x 10s along at my urging. He only brought about two dozen, figuring that there wouldn’t be much demand for them. They blew out in no time at all.

* * *

A young woman with a haircut evocative of Uma Thurman’s in Pulp Fiction was staring at me and smiling. I looked at her and said, “Can I help you?”

“You’re cute,” she said. “You’re really cute.”

I’ve been convention-going regularly for over a decade and never had a woman (or a man, for that matter) tell me that. I wasn’t quite sure how to react. “Uh huh,” I said slowly, and noticed she was weaving ever so slightly. “And how much have you had to drink?”

“A lot,” she said.

“Uh huh. Well, come back when you’re sober and we’ll talk,” I replied.

She did, the next day, apologizing profusely and bringing her husband along as back-up. I have no idea whether he thought I was cute.

* * *

Both Saturday night and Sunday night, the partying downstairs and the peaceful slumber upstairs was shattered by false fire alarms. Three times the entire hotel emptied out as we waited around to learn that there was no danger to life and limb.

Each time the omnipresent Brian Cooney could be seen speaking with the hotel people and the fire marshals, trying to smooth things out.

The most irritating was Sunday night when it happened twice, during the convention’s toga party. (I tried to talk Stephen Furst into going; after all, as Flounder in Animal House, he helped define the festivity for generations to come. But he wasn’t interested. I guess it was pretty much a case of “Been There, Done That.”)

And no, I didn’t wear a toga, and boy, was I glad, particularly when the alarms kept going off.

There I was, standing outside surrounded by tipsy barefoot Brits with steady winds whistling up their togas. It gave new meaning to the term “Three sheets to the wind.”

* * *

A guy came up to me while I was walking through the hotel lobby and said, “I’m so glad I caught you! Can I have your autograph?”

He handed me the program book and held it open to the page with the creator of Babylon 5 on it.

I stared at the picture and sighed. “I’m not Joe Straczynski,” I said.

“No?” he said with that air of disappointment I’d quickly come to recognize.

“No,” I informed him, and it was all I could do not to tell him I was Stephen Furst. I turned the program book to the page with my picture on it and signed it.

Bruce Boxleitner and Bill Mumy didn’t know when they had it lucky.

* * *

I was used to certain differences in British terminology (“Lift” for elevator, for instance). But what I found interesting was terms which mean one thing in the U.S. that have quite a different meaning in the U.K.

For example, if a female British tourist in the United States goes up to a hotel desk clerk and says, “I’d like to be knocked up in the morning,” she might get more than she bargained for. Because what she’s asking for, in British slang, is a wake-up call; the equivalent of knocking on the door to awaken her.

Also, when we say “pìššëd,” we usually mean “angry.” When the British say it, they mean “drunk.” Indeed, British comic fans told me that it caused quite a few chuckles in the U.K. when Savage Dragon advertised the hero thusly: “Savage Dragon: He’s back and he’s pìššëd!” They envisioned the character staggering out of a bar and falling flat in a stupor.

So beware, all women in hotels with minibars, lest you become unexpectedly knocked up and, as a consequence, pìššëd.

* * *

Kristian quickly became used to being a celebrity. Wherever he went, half the time gazes followed him and he heard people whispering, “That’s him… he’s on Space Cases.” During the dance Saturday night he left with three young ladies on his arm.

Teen idol in the making. I think he could definitely get used to this.

* * *

I called home again and found out that that Pandora was a stray little gray cat (with oddly formed thumbs) who had shown up out of nowhere and promptly been adopted by the family. This was how we acquired the previous family cat, Ghost. Ghost died six months ago from cancer, and Ariel–who had been the cat’s companion for as long as she could remember–still hasn’t gotten over it. Every week or so she’d still pipe up with, “I miss my kitty.”

Never has there been a cat quite as needy for affection as Pandora (named by Shana). Undernourished, undersized, underloved, if anyone sits still for so much as a minute, Pandora climbs into their lap and lies there. A cat absolutely starved for love. And she is completely house trained, which means that someone likely threw her out.

Which leaves me wondering why.

* * *

Joe Straczynski announces to a packed house that Babylon 5 is definitely renewed. The place goes nuts.

British fans have been much more eager to embrace Babylon 5 than many American fans, it seems. Perhaps they’re more patient and willing to make a commitment to a long term story arc. Then again, they also don’t have to deal with the local stations who bury the series at odd hours, pre-empt it, cancel it, and never promote it. Furthermore they don’t have to contend with Warners’ loopy scheduling policy which stingily doles out new episodes and then airs week upon week of reruns. In the U.K. Babylon 5 is aired straight through; they’ll be seeing the last four episodes of the third season in August while U.S. fans will have to wait until October.

* * *

Closing ceremonies were held Sunday night. Guests were given funky paperweights that were little plastic models of Babylon 5, the titular space station, sealed in some sort of clear lucite. It was really sharp. Brian also showed off his newborn daughter. She wasn’t sealed in lucite.

* * *

Bright and early Monday morning, Kristian and I headed to London by train. Brian Cooney was the conductor.

I was scheduled to do store signings, plus I’d set up something: since Kristian and I are both fans of Red Dwarf, I’d made some contacts at the BBC and gotten an invitation from the Red Dwarf folks to come out, visit the set, and meet the cast and crew.

More next week.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705).