Dragon*Con 1999

Originally published July 30, 1999, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1341

The only convention I’m doing this summer is Dragon*Con, so I figured I’d do a write-up about my recent excursion there.

Dragon*Con holds a great number of fond memories for me, both on a personal and professional level. I’ve been attending the convention pretty much since the beginning, and have watched the thing grow almost exponentially to the current reported attendance of somewhere in the 20,000 range. In some ways it’s almost gotten too big. There’s something to be said for smaller conventions where you can actually hang out with friends for extended periods of time. Between the programming schedule I was carrying, and the massive number of people vying for attention, sometimes one can miss people altogether. I managed to chat with Paul Dini, for instance, for a staggering thirty-five seconds, when I really would have liked to see his panels.

On the other hand, the main purpose of convention attendance is to meet-and-greet the fans, and for that goal, you simply cannot beat a convention like Dragon*Con.

This time around, the Davids descended en masse. Shana opted to remain at home, deciding that she’d rather spend the July 4th weekend with a handful of friends she does know instead of 20,000 fans she doesn’t know. Poor child just cannot prioritize. However, Gwen and Ariel attended, as did Kathleen. Kathleen is formerly from Atlanta before relocating to New York (although not for the purposes of running for Senate). Indeed, it was at Dragon*Con that we first discussed the possibility—after just being friends for the better part of a decade—of pursuing a more-than-friends relationship.

The day before we went down, however, the folks at Dragon*Con asked—in a very last-minute way—if I could step in and MC the costume ceremony. Peter Jurasik (Londo Mollari of Babylon 5) had been scheduled to host it, but recent heart surgery had prompted him to ask for a scaling back of his activities so that he wouldn’t be pushing himself. Although, curiously, he did not ask to be relieved of his duties for the Dawn lookalike contest. Go figure. I had MC’d the costume competition in the past, but usually I’d had some prep time. Flying solo on such short notice was going to be dicey. It was suggested that George Perez co-host, and that was fine by me. George and I had MC’d together before (he referred to it as MC Squared) and could bounce off each other quite smoothly, so it was a fine fit for the occasionally rowdy Dragon*Con masquerade.

We arrived at the convention without incident and I was pleased to see that, for the first time in a while, my schedule wasn’t screwed up. In previous years I’d been scheduled for panels that were being held before I arrived or, even better, booked opposite myself (for instance, having me do a reading in one room while slated to be on a panel in another at the same time).

On Friday night, we attended the banquet/awards ceremony. Unfortunately, the four of us arrived a few minutes late, and George and other comics folks were already seated. Anne McCaffrey was also seated, as was Julie Schwartz, Chris Claremont and others, all having a great time and with no room at their tables.

Ariel, Gwen, Kathleen and I were escorted to an otherwise empty table and sat there, feeling like the cheese standing alone. It just doesn’t get much lamer than that.

And then a convention official suddenly materialized with a rather pleasant-looking, brown haired fellow, and said to him, “You can sit here.” He turned and introduced us to Brian Froud.

I thought Kathleen’s head was about to explode. Being a puppeteer, the person she most wanted to meet was Froud, designer of such films as Dark Crystal and Labyrinth. We started chatting and then, a minute or so later, John de Lancie sat next to Kathleen. In the company of Brian Froud and Q, we were suddenly at the cool table. The rest of the evening went well as assorted awards were handed out to the guests of honor, as well as the recently instituted Julie award. A lifetime achievement award named for Julie Schwartz, two of them were presented: One to McCaffrey, and one to Will Eisner. It’s a honkin’ huge award. I couldn’t wait to see them try to get it into their luggage.

In the meantime, I was desperately trying to come up with some spiffy entrance that George and I could do to kick off the masquerade. My previous time out, I’d shown up as Moses (the year Charlton Heston was supposed to show, and then canceled at the last minute) and parted the audience. But I had nothing prepared. “I have one thought,” I said to Kathleen. “But I’d need two sets of Jedi robes, two lightsabers, a guy dressed as Darth Maul, and the soundtrack of Phantom Menace.”

In less than twelve hours, Kathleen managed to score, from some friends, the robes and two plastic lightsabers. On the way to the dealer’s room, we encountered a guy dressed as Darth Maul who, it turned out, was going to be in the costume competition. I asked if he’d be willing to help us out with an opening sketch, and he was perfectly game for it. The only thing remaining is the easiest thing—the soundtrack.

We searched the entire dealer’s room. It was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t believe it. A science fiction dealer’s room the size of several football fields, with hundreds of dealers, and we couldn’t score a CD of the soundtrack of America’s hottest movie. Finally we wind up borrowing one from the Star Wars programming track room.

With all the components in place, however, I still didn’t have an ending in mind for the sketch. Then I swung by George’s table. Considering that last year’s host, Anthony Daniels, walked in with a gorgeous model on his arm, George wanted equal time by having Shannon Lower, the dancer and model who was the inspiration for his title Crimson Plague, up on stage with him. The end of the sketch presented itself to me.

During the day I read from assorted projects. Among them was the first chapter of a novel I’m working on called Apropos of Nothing, a fantasy novel my agent is presently sending around to publishers. A couple of years ago I read an unsold short story of mine called “The Archetype” at Dragon*Con, and not too long after that it was bought by The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. So I figured maybe it’d be good luck. It was the first public reading of anything from the book, and it went over extremely well. Since the title character is something of an anti-hero, I was relieved at the warm reception.

The thing I was rather surprised about was the apparent lack of support for Dragon*Con by the major comic book publishers. Dark Horse, Sirius, these were represented. But Marvel and DC were nowhere to be found. It was incomprehensible. This has got to be the largest comic-related convention on the East Coast. I know times are tight, but how in the world they can blow off the kind of exposure that they would get at the convention is beyond me. At the very least, you’d think there’d be giveaway items: comics, posters, buttons, something. Certainly company reps are there to discuss the line, but that’s not the same as having giveaways or, even better, a booth in the dealer’s room. It was a tremendous missed opportunity, and the way the convention pulls in the crowds every year, it would—in my humble opinion—really behoove the majors to have a seriously visible presence.

That evening, I showed up in the backstage area where the contestants were assembled, and looked around for the guy dressed as Darth Maul I’d spoken to.

There were half a dozen Darth Mauls. I had no idea which one I spoke to. Fortunately I managed to track him down, but I must have seemed rather odd to the Darths who I walked up to and said, “Excuse me, did I talk to you in the street?”

One botched music cue later, we were ready to go. The music from Phantom Menace starts up. Darth Maul swaggered onto the stage, double-saber extended. He looked menacing. He did a few high kicks. And then on charged two Jedis—George and I, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan—and as the audience roared, we attacked. We parried and thrusted across the stage, and suddenly Darth Maul stopped and stared behind us. We looked to see where he was looking. Out sashayed Shannon in a skimpy, tight outfit. Our lightsabers, held at about hip level, angled 45 degrees upward. She considered George and I for a moment, and then wrapped herself around Darth Maul and exited with the triumphant master of darkness. A dejected George and I trudged back across the stage while the music continued to blast, until I shouted, “Knock it off!” at which point the music cut off.

It definitely got the masquerade off to a good start. Some of the costumes were good, and a few presentations were brilliant, including Best-of-Show winner “The Sith Who Shagged Me,” a seamless blending of the two big films of the summer. Austin Powers was substituted for Obi-Wan, and Dr. Evil stepped in for the scheming Palpatine. (“Through a cloning process, we have created a duplicate of your apprentice, Darth Maul… 1/8 his size.” “I shall call him… Mini-Maul.”)

The next day in the dealer’s room, we caught up with Julie Dawn Cole, whom we had only recently discovered was there. The name may not ring a bell, but the character she played certainly will: the immortal Veruca Salt in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Veruca, frighteningly, was something of a role model for Shana. Gwen was chortling mercilessly over how she was going to rub Shana’s nose in the fact that she, Shana, missed out on meeting Veruca Salt. I decided, for the sake of something resembling family peace, to get Shana an autographed photo of Cole. Cole, hearing that Shana is eighteen, suggested a black and white publicity shot in which Veruca is licking a very tall, narrow, and distinctly phallic lollipop while her rather disconcerted father looks on. “She’s old enough to appreciate just how strange this one is,” says Cole. I couldn’t help but think she’s right. Also on hand was Paris Themman, Wonka’s “Mike Tee-Vee,” who autographed a lovely replica of a golden ticket to Ariel after she sang the Oompah-Loompah song.

Sunday afternoon I had a panel with John de Lancie to promote our upcoming release, I, Q. (The other day Kathleen informed me that Books-In-Print listed the author of I, Q as John Q. De Lancie, with no mention of me. Still, I consider myself lucky. Writer Greg Cox edited a short story collection about vampires in an SF setting called Future Sucks. Books-in-Print listed it as—no lie—Future Sucks Cox. But I digress…) John was running late and I was reluctant to get started without him. And then audience members started begging me—literally begging me—to sing “Jubilation T. Cornpone.”

I obliged them, feeling like a total idiot, but they seemed to like it. We were in the south; they’d be too polite to say anything else.

Later, in a spur-of-the-moment decision in the dealer’s room, George (who has played Abner) and I performed “The Country’s in the Very Best of Hands” for Kathleen and Shannon while people in surrounding booths looked on. Maybe we should mount an all-comic pro production. That’s what this industry needs: more stock companies.

The convention finished out somewhat quietly. Ariel sported a massive scar on her face rather proudly, manufactured during a make-up workshop as part of the kid’s programming. People kept doing double-takes and saying, “Oh my God” when they saw this poor battered child. Gwen was walking around with an almost life-size Mini-Me. She was reluctant to ask me for any of the Austin Powers action figures, which she really wanted, because they’re made by Todd Toys and she figured I’d be upset with her. I patiently explained that I couldn’t care less. Personal opinions are one thing, but toys will be toys. And Kathleen has a signed Brian Froud poster and a big grin on her face.

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