We have a team on the ground of Comic-Con this weekend bringing back the best and worst of the ultimate fan festival. Check out their final day coverage of the epic event.
Day three was our last full day at San Diego’s Comic-Con, and we were all in pretty feeble conditions. Having just endured one of the longest nights of my life, there was still much to be done on the busiest day of the weekend. We had all taken a few punches and body blows from the parties the night before, but with a little coffee and some motivation, we were set to embark on our Comic-Con finale.
We walked the town, ran across some of the actors from “True Blood,” witnessed an epic break dance battle, survived a zombie takeover in 7/11, and capped things off at a private party atop the Marriott Gaslamp Quarter.
After some one-on-one time with our pillows, we set out for another stroll around town, hoping to absorb as much of the sights and oddities we could find. It didn’t take long. During a quick pit stop inside 7/11, a small army of zombies entered the store. All in method zombie-mode, shifting and slumping around the store scaring the bejesus out of a small girl who ran to her father for protection. The zombie decor was not half-assed, they were frankly quite scary, although the cashier seemed indifferent by the whole scene. Something told me she had worked during Comic-Con before.
From 7/11 we headed back to the Wired Magazine party at the Omni Hotel. Normally a pedicab would have come in handy in this case, but as documented earlier, we were financially and emotionally scarred by these bikes from hell. We walked the good walk, arrived at the hotel and found a partygoers heaven. Everyone was hammered, hence, happy. We witnessed a break dance battle that could have easily been transcribed from a movie as we were in line for drinks. A young fellow and a middle-aged man were going toe-to-toe, trying to one-up the other with their respective sets of jigs and jives. After the youth looked like he had worn out his elder adversary, this guy who was at least 50-years-old drops down into the splits, and picks himself back up in one fluid motion. It was in all sense of the term, game over.
We took advantage of more free drinks, gawked at several actors from Showtime’s “True Blood” and Comedy Central’s “Workaholics,” then expedited our way back into the mayhem outside. San Diego had been officially held captive by thousands upon thousands of Comic-Con faithful. Inside the convention, people in their various costumes were rubbing up on one another without choice (side note: if you are claustrophobic, stay away, far far away from Comic-Con.) It was like walking through a concert pit, except replace the sweaty guy in the AC/DC shirt with a Darth Vader/Elvis hybrid.
Later on we met up with more of my crew at Yardhouse, where yards of golden splendor were consumed in abundance. Buzzed and spritely, we headed to a rooftop party at Altitude, located at the Marriott Gaslamp Quarter. My miscreants were claiming the final moments of one of the greatest, weirdest, and most colorful weekends of the year. A bittersweet moment that was accompanied by one of the best views in San Diego. Last call arrived, then we departed. It was time to say good-bye to our fellow co-workers, and soon to Comic-Con itself. As the streets saturated themselves with barroom expatriates, a thought had reaffirmed itself. It’s impossible to conceive the magnitude and adrenaline that goes down here until you’ve experienced everything for yourself. Comic-Con defies the expectations of real life, mutating a sunny beach side city into something that looks and feels like fiction.
I bid you adieu Comic-Con, and anxiously await your return.