Highway 62

I went first class this time and actually flew up there, as opposed to the drive that I’d undertaken for APE a scant two months before. Yeah, getting through security was a hassle, as was waiting for my late flight out. I sat and read The Interman as the pepperoni pizza I’d wolfed down earlier sat in my stomach and slowly turned to a bubbling pit of acid. The Interman, by the way, is top stuff, and I’ll get to a full review of that another time. If you get a chance to pick it up, by all means do so. Great story, solid (if a little rough) art, beautiful production.

I dunno, maybe I read fast, or maybe the flight to San Francisco was longer than I thought it was, as I was able to read all of Eric Shanower’s Age of Bronze: A Thousand Ships on the flight up. I probably didn’t linger over the art as long as I could or should have, but the story kept goading me to read on to see how things unfolded. Another wonderful book, and beats the hell out of reading whatever just happens to be in the seat flap in front of you on the flight up.

By the way, you can save yourself a ton of money by flying into any airport other than San Francisco International. San Jose is good, but a bit of a drive out; Oakland is closer and is BART-convenient. Keep it in mind.

Woke up the next morning ready for nearly anything. So long as it was breakfast. And coffee. Always coffee.

Drove my rented car into downtown SF, proceeded to get lost and then magically un-lost. I chalk it up to judicious use of The Force. The nice people at the registration desk believed my story about being a columnist for an internet site and gave me free registration as well as a spiffy pro badge. Petty, I know, but I take my victories where I can find them.

I strolled down the escalator and strode into the main hall. To my amazement, the halls were wide and roomy. This is a big deal. After San Diego, where things are crowded enough to make even a sardine claustrophobic, being able to stand and walk and stop without having to have either body armor or telekinetic powers is…refreshing.

Originally, the grand plan was to have some pages from Strangeways ready to show to folks, but my artist’s computer decided to have a personality crisis, preventing the files from getting to me. I’ve been assured that this will be cured in the near future, but it managed to put a crimp in my plans and turned this into largely a social/fan event for me. Not the worst thing in the world, though frustrating all the same.

The program was a little light on things that I really wanted to go to. Actually there were only two things that stood out for me. One of them was the Darwyn Cooke profile panel (as anyone who’s read my New Frontier love-fest of the past month might figure) and the Vertigo panel. That left a lot of free time for wandering.

And wander I did. I moseyed past the DC/Wildstorm booth, reading the advance copies of a few things, the new Sleeper series in particular. Messrs Brubaker and Phillips deliver the goods once again. You could probably even jump on without having read a single issue before. Sure, you might lose some of the nuance, but the story would make perfect sense. At least it did to me. I got a couple pages into the Promethea preview as well, but then thought better of it and will just wait for the issue to come out. And I was strong. I didn’t read the Seaguy preview, though I’d seen some of the art at Wizard World.

Caught up with the guys who work on Less Than Hero, which I’d been introduced to at APE. The good news is that they’re being carried by Diamond now, and that a fourth issue is in the pipeline, but no definite timeline yet. Worth checking out, if you can find a copy of it. Try Cold Cut if Diamond doesn’t have all the back issues yet. How to describe it? Urban superhero lowlife cultist mind control antics? That somehow doesn’t do it justice. Oh yeah, forgot the transvestites. And the pregnancy drama. And the…aw hell, just give it a look.

More wandering led me through aisles of lots and lots and lots of things that I had utterly no interest in. Batman/Superman #1 for ten dollars? What the hell? And it’s only out in hardback now? Just gimme a cheap trade please (much like DC is doing with The Losers, Gotham Central, and The Filth). And man, there’s a lot of folks who really like toys. I mean a lot. Don’t get me wrong, toys are great, but they aren’t comics.

Said hello to the AiT/PlanetLar crew. Always good folks to chat with and get a hearty handshake from. I said handshake, folks. Get yer minds out of the gutter. Picked up some Scurvy Dogs, Demo and their latest OGN Planet of the Capes, of which I’ve only read Demo currently (and man, was it a downer this month. Beautiful art, but a total bummer story. That’s okay, sometimes you need a kick in the teeth like that.)

Wandered the artists’ alley and didn’t see all that much that caught my eye. Though the guy with the Lovecraft valentines was kinda cool. I did get a chance to flip through some of Art Adams’ original artwork. Really amazing, beautiful work. I’m not always wild about some of his aesthetic choices, but there’s no denying his talent.

It was about time to catch Darwyn Cooke’s panel, so I headed across the hall, ignoring the growing headache that would grow to near-debilitating status by the time I got to the Walgreen’s in the Sunset, but that’s getting ahead of myself. I sat down, not sure what to expect, as I’d heard a number of rumors about Mr. Cooke being temperamental and opinionated and difficult. None of which turned out to be true. Okay, he’s opinionated, and I can see how he might be a temperamental cuss, but he was quite gracious towards the crowd. It was mostly question and answer, as he didn’t have any kind of presentation prepared. And really, a lot of the questions he talked about were covered in his recent interview in Comic Book Artist, which I’d recommend to any of his fans, really interesting stuff. He expanded a bit upon his comments, which many folks took as anti-mature comics (which is a fairly ignorant response, as New Frontier is probably the most mature superhero book out there. Note, that’s not the same as “adult” like Wanted for instance.)

He’s a passionate guy and he’s going to say what’s on his mind. This isn’t a way to make friends in comics. But he’s hardly the frothing lunatic crusading for the banning of mature books that some folks have made him out to be.

One of the more interesting things to come out of the session was his view that The New Frontier is a sequel of sorts to the JSA book The Golden Age. He has no plans to do a sequel, either. His ideal sequel, actually, would have Grant Morrison running amuck, doing an overview of DC in the Silver Age, with everyone from The Creeper to the Metal Men to The B’wana Beast. I’d be all for that, myself, but I’m a dreamer.

I made it back to the DC booth in time to chat with and get a sketch from Kyle Baker. (You all are reading Plastic Man, right?) He’s always a genuine pleasure to chat with, and he even sketched a character that I thought he was long sick of.

At that point, I decided to take off a little early and head over to Golden Gate Park and maybe take some pictures, as it was getting to late afternoon and the good light was coming out to play. That’s no problem. Just get onto Fell and head west, right?

That’s if your rental car starts. Mine didn’t. Apparently I’d managed to drain the battery somehow. Let’s just leave out how, okay? So I spent the next two hours on hold with the rental company (who didn’t try harder; they suggested I call AAA, as their roadside service was backlogged for the next couple hours) and then AAA who wanted to know if I was stuck in “a good neighborhood.” No, really. I wanted to ask ‘em if they’d come out faster if I said “This street looks pretty bad. Those cannibal hoboes are beginning to filter out of the sewers now…” but thought better of it.

Finally got the car resurrected and headed west. By the time I got to the park, the best of the light was gone and I gave up, heading over to the Sunset and the Isotope, for the comics fix that I hadn’t had that week yet. Mr. Sime and the crew were hard at work tiki-fying the joint while I looked over their wares and listened to “Hot Blooded” by Foreigner (“Hey,” James said, “what bar DOESN’T have this on their jukebox?”) Then I headed over to Walgreen’s to take care of the MONSTER HEADACHE THAT WAS EATING MY BRAIN before getting dinner at Noriega Teriyaki.

Yes, I like Noriega Teriyaki. A lot. Their sushi is cheap and tasty, their portions are generous and you get a free ice cream for dessert. What’s not to like?

I hate arriving early for parties, but didn’t really have much other choice in the matter. Of course, it’s weird to see the Isotope nearly empty on the night of one of their parties, so there’s a little novelty value in that, I guess. As always, the drinks were generous and the staff friendly. I guess the place didn’t really fill up until around ten p.m. or so, but folks were filtering in before that. Caught up with The Man Who Killed Flex Mentallo (aka Kommander Ken Kneisel) and he schooled me on the finer points of Alan Moore’s run on Supreme, which I’ll have to pick up one of these days.

I can’t remember exactly when, but Mr. Sime sent out a call to do phone shots with the Isotope staff and partygoers. Only a few stalwarts dared dial the fateful number, shot glass in hand, imbibing with fellow revelers several states away (and I mean that in more than one sense, folks). Mr. Sime and company even talked me into participating, and I never participate in that sort of foolishness. I hear there’s even an incriminating picture where I declare my eternal love for Rob Liefeld’s X-Force.

The guests of honor that evening were Batton Lash and Jackie Estrada, who were celebrating ten years of Supernatural Law, a milestone worth noting, particularly considering that they’re doing it all on their own. Kudos to them, indeed.

About that time, I was feeling the weight of the travel and previous week of bad sleep beginning to catch up with me. I figured it best to head back to the base and get some shuteye, over the protestations of a number of partygoers who assured me that things were just getting started (and indeed they were right, as it was reported that things wrapped up at 6:30 a.m. I’m just not man enough for that.) I got in the car (which was NOT towed this time, thank you very much), put on Tom Waits “Invitation to the Blues” and hit the 280 south to San Bruno. I expected sleep, but little did I know that a sinister fire alarm had other plans.

Eventually, I got the required shuteye. I made it back to the convention center just as the doors opened, miraculously. Did a little more wandering. Got my copy of the new Gotham Central trade signed by Greg Rucka. Chatted with Mick Gray, who inks Promethea. Now there’s a nice guy. He even showed me his copy of the script to Promethea #1, which was thicker than all the contracts I had to sign for my mortgage.

Travis Charest draws so good it’s scary. I mean it hurts to look at his work, it’s so skilled. That is all.

Then there was the Vertigo panel. That was a little surreal. Apparently all the guest creators couldn’t make it, which left the events coordinator from DC in the hot seat. Well, him and Ford Gilmore (who I’m still not sure why he was actually there). The previews for all of Grant Morrison’s work looked great (duh), but We3 looks to be the most supremely messed-up thing he’s written in some time. And that’s saying something. The preview for Dave Gibbons’ The Originals also tantalized with its future mod theme. A lot of the other stuff didn’t really grab me, though I suppose I’ll finally relent and pick up Bite Club.

Ah yes, the longest line I’ve ever waited in for a con signing. That would be Darwyn Cooke at the DC booth. The line itself wasn’t all that long, but it moved pretty slowly. Mostly due to the fact that Mr. Cooke was doing sketches for folks. These weren’t super-fast, bang-em-out sketches either. Oh, and if you’re asked by the nice folks at the booth to be the last person in line and hold up the sign that says “Hey folks, I’m the last in line, so the rest of you just buzz off” you might think twice about it. I don’t know how many people I crushed by saying “Sorry man, but I’m the LAST in line. You’re out of luck.” I figure it’s going to take a lifetime of good deeds to wipe out that karmic debt.

So yes, I finally did get a sketch and the chance to chat with Mr. Cooke a while. Hey, it made my day.

And if that wasn’t enough, I also had a chance to chat with Barron Storey for a little while. If you read Endless Nights, then you’ve seen his work, as he did the Despair story in that. He’s an amazing artist, but it’s likely that you’ve never heard of him, as he really hasn’t done that much work in comics, but he’s been a huge influence on artists like Bill Sienkiewicz, Kent Williams, George Pratt and Dave McKean. Okay, Mr. McKean was doing his own thing before he knew of Mr. Storey’s work, but there’s a synchronicity there that’s pretty amazing. That was pretty much the icing on the cake for me. Yes, I’m an art geek. I can accept that.

Next week, folks.