After a troublesome start Friday, due in part to typical New York traffic, my brother, John, and I made it down to the convention and checked into the Marriott. I couldn't complain about the accommodations. We had a nice room with all the necessary amenities, including Internet access, though I was too busy to take much advantage of it.
Once we dropped off our bags, we headed down to security to pick up my books and head to the table. Everything was set up by 6:30--90 minutes after the convention began--but it didn't seem we missed much. The turnout was less than I had hoped for. Friday night was slow, so we mostly hung out at the table, though I walked around a bit to check out the other vendors' tables. Of course, that was quite a spectacle. Halloween in March. Pretty cool. My favorite holiday next to my birthday. Monsters lurked about, but the scariest things I witnessed were the ugly fat chicks wearing skimpy, slutty clothes. Torn fishnet stockings with bulges of puffy flesh pushing through; ragged mini-skirts that threatened to burst at the seams and thankfully didn't; paunches that peeked through tops two sizes too small...ugh. If that wasn't bad enough, there was some transvestite wandering around. He looked like Donald Rumsfeld in drag, complete with leathery face and glasses--a real eyesore.
Anyway, once the convention closed for the night, we headed to Pizza Hut to split a supreme pizza. John can really put it away, so getting individual slices never even occurred to him, and of course, I had no problem indulging in a random act of gluttony. The place was empty, and the florescent lights were harsh like the ones in your typical 7-Eleven. It felt as safe, too, especially when this skinny gansta looking guy walked in to order takeout. So, once we got our pie, I grabbed a fruit punch from the soda fountain, but almost puked when I tasted it, so I dumped it out and poured myself a Mountain Dew. Big fuckin' mistake! Not at 11:30 at night.
"Are you sure you want to drink that?" John asked me. "The only soda that has more caffeine is Jolt."
I thought I could handle it even though I don't drink caffeinated beverages much. I was wrong. I don't know what I was thinking, especially since I have chronic insomnia. So, after stuffing our faces, we headed back to the hotel. John passed out with the TV on within thirty minutes of getting back to the room. Me? I was wide awake. A couple hours of bad late night TV later, I turned it off and tried to sleep. It didn't happen. I tossed and turned all night. We've all been there at one time or another. I managed to get a few minutes of sleep here and there, but when I finally had to get up, I was far from rested, and now I felt a cold coming on as well.
We headed to the Silver Diner for breakfast and gorged ourselves with traditional American breakfasts. Waffles, blueberry pancakes, bacon, eggs, orange juice, coffee. That also seemed like a good idea at the time, but then came the carb crash, and I was even worse off than before.
After breakfast, we drove to the bank so I could get change for the books I was going to sell. We were the only high-testosterone beings there, and when we entered all these fat women who were sitting around with nothing to do were waving at us and saying, "over here." Damn. You'd think they never saw a man before, or is that just my ego talking? We were the only customers in the bank at the time. Money in hand, we drove back to the hotel.
We ran into Dee Wallace in the elevator on the way down to the convention center and talked to her a few minutes. She was nice and laughed a lot. I told her I wrote a novel and gave her my business card.
There was a better turnout Saturday. A lot more people. A lot more freaks. We saw Bill Hinzman skulking around in the full makeup he wore for the original Night of the Living Dead film. He was the first undead who attacked Barbara in the beginning of the movie. He wasn't as tall as I thought he would be and had gained some weight. (Hey, who wouldn't in forty years?)
At 1:30, I went upstairs to check out Michael Laimo's and Tom Monteleone's readings, since I'd never attended a reading let alone given one, and I had one scheduled for the next day. For the most part, it was what I expected. They read from their work and there was a brief Q&A afterward. During the Q&A, I took the opportunity to plug my book and reading the next day and asked for marketing tips. They were both gracious and gave some common sense advice.
Then, I found out from one of the convention's coordinators that there was an author's table in the celebrity room. Shit. I wish I was told that from the beginning instead of hearing about it halfway through the event. It could have made a difference. When I heard that, I didn't waste anymore time. I grabbed half the books I had out, packed them up, and ran upstairs. I sat between Michael Laimo and Ron Malfi, which was pretty cool because I just hung out with them talking about writing and picking their brains on how they market their work. They were both amicable guys. Ron even bought my book. I spent the rest of the day up there with them.
John and I got back to the room around seven o'clock and watched TV a little while. The huge breakfast we'd eaten had sustained us pretty well most of the day, but by 7:30 we were ravenous. We drove to the main strip in the area and found Outback Steakhouse. A nice, juicy steak was just what we needed, but there was a forty minute wait. We didn't want to wait that long to eat, so we checked out the Olive Garden nearby. Same shit. We hopped in the car and drove. Before long we were lost. I pulled out my smart phone and turned on the GPS, but it was acting funky. It was that or I was hallucinating from low blood sugar and my blooming cold. Ugh. I felt like shit. I was hungry. I was impatient. I was irritated.
We finally found a familiar road. "Fuck it," I said. "Let's just go to Burger King. I can't wait anymore." We'd been driving around for ninety minutes, so even Alpo would have sounded appetizing at that point. This place was just like the Pizza Hut from the night before. The only difference was that they sold burgers. I wondered when it would be held up.
We both ordered angus burger meals. I ignored the Mountain Dew and poured myself a lemonade. Twenty minutes later, we were on our way back to the hotel.
"It feels like I have a stone in my stomach," John groaned, as he lay down on his bed.
I didn't feel as bad from the meal. I was just glad I wasn't hungry anymore. I was more congested, though, and sleep didn't come quickly. It was a repeat of the previous night but not as bad. Still, I woke up with a full blown cold and lots of congestion.
John's friend, Ray, drove down from New York to meet up with us. He wanted to check out the convention since he makes independent horror films. He's a cool guy, and we may end up working together on a project at some point. We met up with him downstairs. He was with his brother, Dan, and his brother's girlfriend, Becky. We all piled into Ray's SUV and headed for the parking garage exit but were stuck behind some frail old Asian man who didn't know what to do because no one was manning the parking booth. I egged Ray on to honk his horn and bust this guy's chops. We all laughed because he opened the door and reached over to the booth, but he was uncertain of his actions. We kept honking and laughing, and finally this guy took off, and we were on our way to the Silver Diner.
Breakfast was uneventful except for one thing. Becky and Dan are vegans, and Becky has a cheese allergy to boot. She ordered a salad but complained that there was cheese in it. The waiter came over and said, "Really?" Then he fished around in her salad with a fork and took a bite. Ray and I missed this since we were busy discussing films and books. There was such a commotion about this that the manager came over and handed Becky a coupon for a free entree. Amazing.
There was something else, something a little eerie. There was a haggard woman in her late fifties to early sixties who bore a striking resemblance to one of my ex-girlfriends. Well, what she would look like as an older woman, and let me tell you something: it wasn't pretty. It gives me the shudders just thinking about it.
After breakfast, we stopped off at CVS so I could get some drugs for my congestion. John thought it might be allergies because of the cherry blossoms blooming, but I don't have allergies. I bought Claratin, anyway, and took it. The timing couldn't have been worse. I had my reading at one o'clock, and this shit was drying me out in the wrong way.
Ray and I went upstairs to give my reading, but the door was locked. I ran down and asked if someone could open it. When I returned, Ray was adjusting his video camera and there were three people waiting. We hung out a bit and talked about a story I'm working on, then the maintenance guy showed up and unlocked the door. Including Ray, a total of four people attended. With such a low number, nervousness never entered the equation, especially since we all talked a bit beforehand. The problem was the Claratin. It was making my mouth dry and killing my presentation. I read the whole of Chapter 14 - Resurrection from The Necromancer. That chapter takes me about twenty minutes to read. I took a sip of water after the first break in the piece, then decided to just plow through the rest of it because it was awkward to stop and drink water while people were waiting. Every now and then I would trip over my words. When I finished, everyone asked me a few more questions about the story. Ray videotaped the whole thing and will send it to me after he's had a chance to edit it a little. If it looks good enough, I'll upload it to Youtube, MySpace, Facebook, and my website.
Later on, after the reading, I was down at the table hanging out with Ray. John went around to check things out since he hadn't done so yet. It wasn't long before my phone rang.
"Hey Kevin," John said. "Get up here. There's no line to meet Romero."
I'd gone up there a few times before, and the line was too long for me to wait in. I'd heard they were charging $25 per autograph. When I got up there, there was one guy ahead of me. I overheard George say he wished they didn't have to charge for autographs. I guess it was in his contract with the promoters.
When it was my turn to meet him, I handed him my novel and shook his hand. I told him his work had inspired me. Chapter 14 was clear evidence of that. He said, "It's nice to meet someone who actually finished something." I laughed. He's cool. He asked if I had contact information. I gave him my business card, then I sat down with him, and John took our picture. Meeting him made the whole trip worth it.
We spent the rest of the afternoon talking with people, taking pictures, hanging out, etc. When it was all over, John, Ray, Dan, Becky, and I went to Chipotle and ate burritos, then they dropped us off at the hotel.
It was a tiring weekend, though I don't really feel like I did anything, but overall it was a good experience.
Labels: horror convention, horrorfind weekend
