“Can You Nerds Let Me Enjoy Comic-Con In Peace?” By A Guy Dressed As Hawkman At Comic-Con
You’re telling me I can’t dress in public as a superhuman half-man, half-bird alien with giant wings without constantly being stopped for pictures?
What, I have to stand there, holding an awkward smile while your cousin figures out how to operate your camera? Just let me browse the con floor, eating a chili dog with one hand and wielding my paper mache Thanagarian mace with my other. I’m not trying to attract attention. This is just how I like to dress.
So please do not interrupt me while I’m in the bathroom. It’s hard enough to use the facilities given the constraints of my costume. Your gawking does not help. Stop acting like you’ve never seen a member of the Justice Society of America pee out a Mountain Dew Big Gulp.
Sure, when I run into Superman, I will talk to him. But that is because as a fellow costume-wearer, I am allowed to. We have to talk shop - what spandex we prefer, what foam we use for our muscle padding, what we choose to stuff in our crotches for prime shapeliness. Then we will plan what airport hotel bar we will wear our costumes to that night. You are not invited.
But above all else, do not bother me when I’m talking to a Slave Princess Leia. I really think that, despite the fact that we come from two very different fictional universes, we’d have some chemistry. Don’t blow it for me.
