COMICS CULTURE SHRAPNEL from CBEM 328

Cocktail Hour

On Wednesday I went to my local store, Jim Hanley's Universe, and it was packed. I don't think I've ever seen this many people in there. Well, excepting when Warren Ellis did a signing, and most of those people left after they got whatever autographed. Then all was empty and the rest of us could bug Warren some more. But anyway. There were a lot of people in there, and I don't think it was because of the signing that *was* taking place at the time. The gang from Legal Action Comics was in there, crowded around a large table like they were a corporate board ready to scream about environmental emissions rather than simply signing a few books and making some sketches. Needless to say, it was a bit cramped.

And it was Wednesday. I rarely go into the store on Wednesdays, mostly due to the demands of a school schedule where I'm busy or away on that day, usually dropping by instead after work on Thursdays. I'm used to the quiet, sedate nature of the store just before closing. I'm used to having carte blanche to wander about, stand wherever I want, sit down if need be.

But on Wednesday...that wasn't happening. Everywhere I looked there were people, of all kinds. Like a Dr. Seuss book. Short, tall, skinny, fat. Long hair, shaved heads. Old guys, kids. Star Wars shirts, Canderia shirts. Business suits, dressed in all black. Guys. Girls. Even a horde of the big creepy bearded guys that the more fortunate believe to be a myth. You know what I mean. Like Comic Book Guy on the Simpsons. People go up to Matt Groening and say "I know who you based Comic Book Guy on! He works at this store near my house!" and then Matt says "No, he's every comic book guy." And it's true. Except I'm lucky enough to go to a store that doesn't employ him.

I used to though. Before I started high school I used to patron a small store in Brooklyn called Bill & Bob's. It wasn't much bigger than my living room, and wasn't the most attractive place. But it was pretty clean, and there was one guy who was really nice and I talked to him a lot. And I got discounts. Not just because I was a girl, because he did the same for my Dad without knowing that *was* my Dad. I guess we were just decent people.

And then there was the other guy. Big, dressed like a Limp Bizkit fan before there was such a group. I know there's a word for it, but can't remember it right now. The store was supposed to open at 1pm, but this guy was usually late. And he would take breaks in the middle of the day, locking the store and leaving a sign that said "back in 15 minutes." I waited once, spent an hour outside. By the time the guy came back there were at least 20-30 kids waiting on the curb. It was truly a sad state of affairs.

They closed down sometime during my senior year of high school, though I had abandoned the store long before then. I was going to school in Manhattan, and had discovered the world of choices available in the retail center of the planet. I discovered Jim Hanley's, and the good selection and service I received has kept me loyal for many years. I also got a bit spoiled from entering this large store with a big selection and not having to worry about bumping into people.

It's easy to forget other fans exist. Sure, I post in message boards and on Usenet. I get e-mail from people regarding my web page or this column. But living breathing people filling a comic shop? Truly a strange sight. Online it's easy to dismiss comics fandom. But walk into a store on Wednesday and to see everyone really makes you think about what you are a part of. I could be having lunch with these people. Going to the movies. Having a long conversation over a few beers at the Peculier Pub. I could be doing things that normal people do together but with actual comics fans.

I should get out of the house more often. Not every fan is a stereotype, and I'd probably get along with a lot of them.