I spent the morning preparing for and then traveling the roughly half hour to visit Ultracon at the South Florida Expo Center at the South Florida State Fairgrounds.
The trip was pretty straight forward, made so by this region of Florida’s road network that pretty much runs parallel roads north-south and east-west, with only the occasional break owing to 55+ Only Residential communities and Army Corps of Engineers canals, which are themselves responsible for making this region of the Caribbean sandbar habitable.
If the Thwaites glacier collapses, my home might be under as much as 80 feet of water. So I’m keeping a close eye on that just in case it suddenly becomes a good idea to sell and move elsewhere.
Anyway. The ride was pleasant enough, though I was anxious about arriving, as I’d applied for and been granted a Press Pass, with instructions that it would be waiting for me at registration…and such arrangements do not always go smoothly for me, but that anxiety was quickly replaced by another once I drove into the parking lot. The event had advertised Free Parking (as did the Fair Grounds website), but the lots appeared full, though there was a side lot apparently offering parking for sixty-five bucks.
Yeah. No way was I spending that much money just for parking, let alone for an event I had my doubts would be tremendously appealing to me.
However, I decided to play the “drive around the parking lot until a space opens up” game, and won it in very short order, surprisingly. I then proceeded to the Fair’s outside ticket booths, informed them that I had a press pass and was told to obtain it right inside the doors of the exhibition hall.
Before I go any farther with a list of criticisms (some justified, some more personal than otherwise), let me say this:
The facility was well set up to accommodate something like this – a good location. The staff I interacted with appeared to be competent, courteous and professional. The interior of the event seemed to be organized according to some schema (at the very least placing most of the comic artists in one general location and placing a good amount of distance between vendors selling similar wares). The “crowd” appeared to be having a generally good time (a descent-sized but not overwhelming crowd) and I would imagine that they did.
Have a good time spending their money, that is.
Every Con has a feel to it. When I attended, Arisia was “frenetic”, Boskone “quiet”; Worldcons I’ve worked, so the “feel” is irrelevant. This one?
Like one of those giant flea markets.
But before I get more deeply into that, this: At the ticket booth, they said I’d get my press pass inside. When I got to the door of the hall, I informed the ticket checker of the same thing, and they let me in to go see the “woman with purple hair”. She was wearing a staff shirt as well. I informed Ms. Purplehair that there should be a press pass waiting for me.
I was not asked my name, nor who I was “pressing” for, nor asked for bona fides or identification. When I asked if she wanted to know who I was, she said “OK, who are you?”. I said “Steve Davidson with Amazing Stories” and she said “OK, now I know” as she handed me a lanyard and press badge, not checking anything.
At that point I was reminded of the fact that I’d received no formal instructions, no do’s and don’ts (Purplehair did say “if the guests don’t want a picture taken, don’t take a picture” and that I was not informed of, nor directed to any formal Code of Conduct for the event.
There was no one making sure that anyone entering went to the ticket booths to buy admissions. The con staff at the door let me gain full access to the event on a mere say-so that I was supposed to get a Press Pass. The Press Pass Person was going to hand me a badge without knowing or verifying who I was, and whether or not I was entitled to a pass.
If you are reading this before the event is over, here’s how to get in for free: don’t stop at the ticket booth, tell the door checkers you have a press pass waiting for you then just walk into the hall. That is, if you’re comfortable with stealing.
Having worked con security as one of my original beats at conventions, I have to say this appalled me. I could easily have gotten in, even if I’d identified myself as “Walter Breen” claiming to be covering the event for Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Fantasy Magazine.
But maybe with that much floor traffic, you don’t really care how many people get in without paying. For reasons you know not what.
Anyway.
Let me try and characterize the event this way: if I were putting an event together to appeal to this particular market, I will apparently have to go heavy on the Funkos, professional wrestling, home-made candy, anime figurines, artists desperate to have anyone look in their direction, home improvement companies, and squeeze in one or two 70s television stars whose politics don’t align with fandom.
I walked both the East and the West exhibition halls, which the event filled. Some of the vendors, including named comic book artists (each had an individual booth/table) the only one of which that had anybody visiting was that for the headliner (and since there was no souvenir book or pocket program I’m not entirely sure who that was). I swear, I felt as if some of those manning their booths were going to grab me and hold me hostage so that it looked like there was at least one person interested in what they were offering.
There was (for me – and that’s all that I can claim) two distinct vibes while walking through the aisles: the artist area seemed lonely and desperate, the funko pop, anime “riske” figurine and a handful of other booths were engaged in lively commerce.
The crowd was a mix of ages, genders and races (a good thing). Few were in costume, though there were installations (open area corner booths) dedicated to popular properties – Ghost Busters, Star Trek, Star Wars, Pokemon). Even those booths were actively engaged in trying to pull attendees into their orbits.
There was not one single booth selling books or pulps. Not a one. There were no names or faces I recognized, not in the booths, not in the crowd.
There was also (probably planned) no apparent seating area for attendees who just needed to catch their breath for a moment or two (you don’t see such things in casinos, either).
I did pay careful attention and did not see any signs of infringement (the closest was someone wearing an “Amazing Fantasy” Spiderman shirt (which I very much doubt was properly licensed from DC), but, even more disappointing, no one stopped me to ask where they could get themselves an Amazing Stories Convention Wear(TM) shirt either, despite the fact that I was wearing the coolest shirt in the place. (The Martian War Machines design.)
And, despite the name of this convention, I did not see Ultraman anywhere.
If Amazing Stories had had a booth there, I think I would have had to feature Paul Di Filippos’ “No Britches Kid” as a special guest at the booth to get any eyeballs to turn in our direction. Even then, I expect most visitors would have been looking for the Funko version.
I’ve now confirmed, once again, that commercial cons are not for me. My “Fandom” does include collecting comics and figures, and art (though not rain gutter covers), but that’s not all it is. In fact, the consumerism aspects of my Fandom is a very small part of it. It’s the people I go for, the interactions, the comfort of being surrounded by people who largely think like I do. I’ve got plenty of flea markets I could go to, and most of them have a wider variety of stuff.
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