My Comic-Con Despair: A Novel

To be completely frank, I’ve never been one for comic books and superheroes and anything relatively associated. So much so that I sat in the theater watching Avengers: Endgame asking myself who on earth Thanos was during the entire first half of the movie. 

However, when I got an invitation to attend a VIP Comic-Con party with a “very exclusive guest list,” I couldn’t help but jump at the prospect. I mean, for all I knew, Robert Downey Jr. could be there, and I wasn’t going to miss that for the world (even if I had never watched an Ironman movie in my life). 

So, off I went to organize the entire day around this very exclusive Comic-Con party where Robert Downey Jr. and the rest of the Avengers cast would be awaiting my journalistic expertise. My brother tagged along and we hopped on the train to San Diego that sunny Saturday morning with absolute glee and a skip in our step. 

We finally arrived at the towering office building where the party would be held. Now looking back, it might have been our nerves and excitement that made the building seem so spectacular and other-worldly when, in fact, it was simply an office building. Alas, we were in complete awe as we walked into the lobby and got our “very exclusive” wristbands (for the very exclusive guests). 

We took the elevator up to the seventh floor and the doors opened upon an enormous floor plan filled with very LA-looking people. When I say “LA-looking,” I mean very fashion-forward people with their intense eyeliners and sparkly makeup. My brother and I definitely did not get the memo with our jeans and sneakers. 

According to the glamorous invitation, press and media interviews would last around three hours prior to the party itself. I waited for a bit, walked around and tried to see if I could get somewhat of a feel for what the deal was. 

I may not be extremely versed with the Marvel movies, but I know a celebrity when I see one and there definitely weren’t any. I noticed a couple of cameras, ring lights and a dressed-up couch in the corner of the room where three individuals were conducting a casual, conversational interview. I asked my brother if he recognized any of them to which he replied a defeated “no.” 

I decided to go up to a man who seemed to know his way around the “event” and asked him if he knew the plan for press and other media interviews. Is there a list? Does he know who’s coming? Will there even be VIP guests giving “exclusive” interviews? He seemed somewhat flustered and told me he would try to get the list for me as quickly as possible.

As we waited for the much-anticipated list, my brother and I walked around some more and got slightly odd stares from some in attendance, but we continued on. The man finally came back with a list of about five people or so that someone else had texted him. I guess I was staring at it for awhile trying to see if I recognized any names because he pulled his arm back and quickly fled to the other end of the floor. 

My brother and I decided to Google the people on the list with the devastating shock that we did not know who any of them were. My brother tried to lighten the situation by assuring me they were “verified on Instagram, so that means they’re legit” but, if anything, I felt even more panicked that I had no substance for a story or a piece whatsoever. 

We waited it out until the party was scheduled to begin, with no success, and finally decided to let the situation be. Although our hopes of taking photos and meeting RD Jr. were somewhat let down, at least we got some free food and the pride to say we went to Comic-Con (or at least a related event).