The geek walk

[carinab]

As requested from the TRON thread, here is the first story about my years associated with a comic book convention. One of the funnier stories involves a celebrity who shall remain nameless but is known to many for his Star Wars character. One year he came to our convention to visit his friend Bill Mumy. Bill Mumy if you remember was the red haired kid from Lost in Space (Danger Will Robinson Danger!). Bill Mumy had a band put together of other comic/film stars (Steve Leialoha, Max Allan Collins, Miguel Ferrer) called Seduction of the Innocent. And, this band played the dance after the InkPot awards banquet. Our celebrity enjoyed a few cocktails at the dance and then perhaps a few more at the after party because he didn't pay attention to the room number when he and Bill finally turned in for the evening. This normally wouldn't be a problem unless you wake up some where different than where you went to sleep. So here it is, zero-dark-thirty in the morning, and our celebrity finds himself wearing only his Fruit of the Loom's wandering the Omni hotel in search of his friend's room. Realizing that this could be could turn very ugly (far worse then those scenes of harried Beatles running from fans - at least they were dressed), he decides to go the back side of the hotel. Being resourceful despite a bit panic stricken, he finds a hotel phone next to a service elevator and calls the front desk. I imagine the discussion went something like this:

Celebrity: "Hi, I need Bill Mumy's room number"

Front Desk: "We can't give out room numbers but I can connect you to his room."

Celebrity: "Okay."

Phone: ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.

Celebrity: "Dammit!"

Phone: ring <click>

Celebrity: "Bill, what room are...."

Hotel Voice Mail System: "The guest you are trying to reach..."

Celebrity: "Dammit! He's passed out." <hangs up and presses zero on the key pad> "Hello, Front Desk? Bill Mumy isn't answering his phone."

Front Desk: "You can leave a message in his voice mail if you like."

Celebrity: "Uh no, I was staying in his room, I slept walked out, so I need the room number."

Front Desk: "So you lost your room key?"

Celebrity: "I don't have a room key, I don't have any pockets at the moment to put a room key in! Can't you send someone up to let me in?"

Front Desk: "Are you listed on the room? Because if you are, we can make a new key for you. Just bring your driver's license to the front desk."

Celebrity: "My driver's license is in the room! Besides I'm not listed on the room. I'm standing here in my UNDERWEAR so I am not coming to the front desk!"

Celebrity explains WHO he is.

Front Desk: "If you're not on the room, I can't make you a new key."

Front Desk clearly fails to grasp the situation.

Celebrity: "So how do I get the *&%^! back into the room?"

Front Desk: "Can someone with the convention help you?"

Celebrity: "I hope so!"

This is the point of the story where I get involved. My friend is in charge of security for the convention and we are still at an after-after party when we get the call on the handy-talky. The front desk is about to tell us where the celebrity is waiting when my friend interrupts and suggests that it wouldn't be wise to say such a thing over an open channel. So we head down to the front desk. Upon entering the elevator we notice something smeared all over one of the ad placards. A closer look reveals it to be blood. When we get to the front desk and tell them about blood in the elevator, the response is, "I'll notify house keeping." A valid and correct answer to be sure, but not the answer we expected. After several minutes of discussion and assurances on our part, the front desk agrees to make a room key but hotel security has to tag along. Fine by us, maybe he'll be interested in the blood stained elevator. Nope, "Housekeeping" he says. We finally make it to the Celebrity who is fit to be tied by now. The only thing the hotel security doofus can say is, "Holy Sh*t, you're

<Celebrity Name> !" He repeats the observation at least six more times before we safely deliver the celebrity back to the room. The moral of the story is, if you sleep walk, be sure to write your room number down on your hand BEFORE you go to sleep - no matter how sh*tfaced you are.

[Nik Habicht]

The moral of the story is, if you sleep walk, be sure to write your room number down on your hand BEFORE you go to sleep - no matter how sh*tfaced you are.

...or superglue the room key (with room number scrawled on it) to your hand....

[carinab]

Installment Two: This put you in the same pantheon as Doc Octopus and the Gremlin.

So I haven't been treasurer for very long and because this is a once a year event, I don't have my scheduling down. The armored car service left 45 minutes ago and here come piles of exibitors on the last day to pay for next year's booth...with cash. Rather than leave it in the portable safe in the convention office overnight, I organize a few trusted people to walk with me to the bank two blocks away. I have a quite a number of night deposit drawer sized envelopes stuffed into my back pack and a gun. I figure I'm ready to go. We leave the office and start making our way across the long lobby, two people in front of me, two behind. It's pretty crowded but I think everything is okay since we've covered 2/3 of the distance and are close to the doors. As we pass by the stairs, Spiderman leaps over the side of the staircase from a landing and drops in front of me. He grabs both of my shoulders. I scream and grasp his arms, step backwards, and turn. His is now off balance and I use his momentum (plus add a little of my own) to turn further and throw him into the wall of the staircase...pretty hard...thunk... I then start to run for the doors at full speed wondering if Wolverine is next...I hate blades... my racing mind is interrupted by the crackle of my handy-talky. "Carina, stop. It's okay. It was only a joke." I stop, turn around, and see on the staircase, the chairman of the convention with the Marvel sales representative. They are both laughing their a$$es off. Spidey wasn't laughing as he was still hurting from his run into the wall. He ended up going to urgent care where they told him he had bruised ribs and a slight concussion. Within hours, everyone heard the story and I was in trouble. The chairman and I had to draft a letter apologizing to Marvel and to the actor they hired. The chairman had no idea I was on my way to do a bank drop. But, he certainly knew that if I was ever unarmed, it's because I was either unconscious or dead. Stupid to say the least....I'm just glad my instincts weren't to ventilate the dumb b@st@rd.

[short_round]

The moral of the story is, if you sleep walk, be sure to write your room number down on your hand BEFORE you go to sleep - no matter how sh*tfaced you are.

I wasn't sleep walking, but I was close to "sh*tfaced" recently. Having left my sharpie in my other pants in another state I couldn't tattoo the room number to my arm. Luckily I was chewing gum so I was able to stick that to the room number placard. All I had to do then was remember what floor I was on ... that's another story.

Don't you miss the days when they actually gave you a metal key on a plastic keychain with the room number written on it.

[carinab]

Installment Three: "But I was hired to play The Punisher and he carries a gun."

Another year, another comic con. This time over the handy-talky, I hear the floor manager say there is a large guy in a costume with a rifle down by the Marvel booth. <Why is it always Marvel?> My friend in charge of security responds and asks for aisle and cross aisle numbers to better locate the fool. I hop on the radio and ask my friend if she'd like help. I'm the only one with enough brains, er-um, a carry permit, to carry a pistol. She agrees and I meet her close to the booth. We decide on a code word to let the floor manager know if the situation requires police. I study the rifle as best I can for the distance and it pretty much looks to me like a FN-FAL and damn real. The guy is also wearing two bandeleros of ammo. My friend and I talk and she is convinced it's not real, no one could be so stupid. She's probably right but I argue that one should never underestimate the level of human stupidity. To no avail, she wants to go talk to the guy. I say okay but "You distract him and I disarm." All the while, teenagers, kids, and people are wandering by the guy.

My friend is very attractive. She got his attention while walking up to him, I came up behind him. The rifle was resting in the crook of his elbow and pointing straight up so it actually wasn't hard to snatch it from him. I'm half-running backwards while trying to drop the mag and rack it but nothing budges, it's spot welded shut. Now the big guy is yelling, very pissed off, "Hey, give that back." The big goof had a british accent. I sling the rifle over my shoulder and walk back up just in time to hear my friend, who has a sense of humor, ask Mr. Punisher, "Um, excuse me but what are you doing bringing something like that into the exhibit hall? Are you planning a take over at tea time?" He replies very angrily, "But I was hired to play The Punisher and he carries a gun." He then suddenly and quickly starts to reach into a pouch, I start to sweep my coat back. He producs a folded bit of paper and announces, "It's a letter from the Sheriff's department stating the gun is only a prop so give it back." My friend starts to reason with the guy; think of the kids, their parents will be afraid, blah-blah. No use, he is full of pith and vinegar. And he is getting louder. I call for the yellow coats (the large, private security folks that we and every other concert event hire) just in case. They arrive and my friend switches from passify mode into b!tch on wheels. She tells our fool that he has a choice. He can either be escorted to his vehicle where he will leave the rifle and bandoleros before returning to the hall or we can call the cops and push him out the front door with his rifle and gear as the SWAT truck rolls up. Realizing that he could soon be introducing himself to cellmates wearing a black body suit and leotards or worse, he decides he can probably portray the character adequately without the hardware.

[Skywalker]

One of the funnier stories involves a celebrity who shall remain nameless but is known to many for his Star Wars character.

http://www.brianenos.com/forums/index.php?...ndpost&p=202238

?? ??

[Skywalker]

Side note to Installment Three: "But I was hired to play The Punisher and he carries a gun."

Here in Italy laws require every toy or deactivated gun to have the muzzle painted bright red.

It might sound silly, but it would have really helped in that situation.

[Dead Buff]

An itchy trigger finger of a nervous person could have gone bad...people should learn....carry a plastic prop!

[rhino]

I wasn't there, but if the guy wasn't pointing it at people or otherwise threatening, I don't see the problem.

[Nik Habicht]

Side note to Installment Three: "But I was hired to play The Punisher and he carries a gun."

Here in Italy laws require every toy or deactivated gun to have the muzzle painted bright red.

It might sound silly, but it would have really helped in that situation.

Luca,

Does that mean that you treat any firearm with a red painted muzzle as a toy or deactivated gun? I'm not sure I would.....

[Skywalker]

Nik,

I didn't mean that, I'll alway consider guns as real and loaded until I can verify both assumptions are not true.

What I meant is that audience that could have been scared by the sight of the FAL would have somehow lowered their alert level from red to orange.

But it would be very interesting to know if knowing that the gun could have been a toy, by looking at its red-painted muzzle, would have changed something in the mental processes of the security/police.

[Patrick Sweeney]

I have (I used to lead a different life) been to a bunch of SF Cons. Kinda like Comics cons, but with even less socialization of the participants. The rules, as far back as I can recall, were no realistic firerams, period. You could have obvious Star Wars balsters, phasers, stuff like thatm but no real-looking stuff.

And bladed weapons? They either had to be fakes in scabbards, or "peace-bonded." A Peace-bonded blade is one where the hilt was tied to the scabbard in an obvious manner. Some went so far as to tie elaborate, Gordian knots to peace-bond their blade.

Everyone was into weapons of all kinds, but every organizer I knew realized that being into, and being safe with, could be worlds apart. And we didn't need some other guest at the hotel calling the police when they saw a bunch of kooks armed with "real" guns.

[EricW]

The chairman and I had to draft a letter apologizing to Marvel and to the actor they hired.

Why is it incumbent upon you to apologize for the stupidity of others?

[Dead Buff]

The chairman and I had to draft a letter apologizing to Marvel and to the actor they hired.

Why is it incumbent upon you to apologize for the stupidity of others?

I will not even get started on that!

[carinab]

Yeah, what Patrick said! We had similar rules, peace bond blades or obvious mock phasers, etc. Nothing realistic ever made it through the front doors. This guy came in with the vendors/exhibitors through the back. Needless to say we modified our security checks at ALL entrances.

And Rhino, yes, the rifle was a prop, the ammo was live ammo. It's one of these situations where if one person is allowed then others will think it's allowed. Two problems arise from that; fan-boys will assume it's okay since the hired actors can do it - they will then be ticked off at the convention when not allowed entrance, or worse, the hired security (unclear or unsure on policy) could be convinced it's okay since he saw someone else with something realistic. I'm not certain either that we could educate the guards enough to know a prop from the real thing.

Given the quantities of people (it was 49,000 when I left), I think this was the only policy possible. Now if Kalifornia gave concealed carry licenses to anyone legally able to carry.....Let the fan-boys in with a checked prop. Their stupidity might earn them a darwin award for harrassing the someone with a CHL. 'Course there wouldn't be a convention left after the lawyers were done.

[carinab]

Why is it incumbent upon you to apologize for the stupidity of others?

I will not even get started on that!

I probably didn't need to but there was an impression that I over reacted. I don't have enough of an ego to worry about it.

[Vlad]

This is one of those strange areas, where half of us are going "Hmm, who doesn't want to carry a FAL everywhere?" and the other half going "Maybe that is not a smart thing to do at a con". Personally I am about to split in half on the issue. Funny stories though.

Vlad

[rhino]

Sounds like I've missed all the fun by not going to SF and comic conventions.

The thing is, I'm a big nerd, and even I'm not sure I'd want to be around that many mutants without my AR slung across my chest, chamber hot and safety "on."

But if I understand properly, it's okay to openly carry a phaser, but Mary Alice the superlight Bushmaster carbine should stay under my coat. Got it!

[carinab]

We had really good people in management who handled every crisis that came up with common sense. There always seemed to be some crisis too. A common joke phrase was, "Valium, it's not just for breakfast anymore." I had a theory that we stuck together and were so loyal to each other because we all had the same "bonding under stress" experience. Sometimes I miss it but I wouldn't want to live in Kalifornia again. I should visit.....

Once I get back from work, I'll see if I can get out another installment....

[rhino]

This is one of those strange areas, where half of us are going "Hmm, who doesn't want to carry a FAL everywhere?" and the other half going "Maybe that is not a smart thing to do at a con". Personally I am about to split in half on the issue. Funny stories though.

I'll have to admit that I don't really want to carry an FAL everywhere. They're just a little too heavy, especially with a decent amount of ammunition. Now, I can carry Mary Alice and a shoulder bag with six 30rd mags of M193 all day without worrying about it.

[Dead Buff]

Aah come on Rhino...my FAl is with me always....

[rhino]

Well, I actually don't own an FAL. In fact, I do not own a .30 caliber battle rifle of any kind, which makes me unworthy as a male. But my baby AR is always in the truck!

[ima45dv8]

I was at a Halloween party at an apartment clubhouse in Houston, TX about 25 years ago, and this very tall guy was dressed in a very realistic army uniform and carrying an AR-type rifle. I met him in the kitchen and learned he WAS in the army and home on leave. His duty post was standing guard at some facility in Germany.

The guy drinks a bit too much from the "punch" bowl, and starts acting weird. He's standing guard in the doorway to the kitchen, where this wonderful bowl of punch was located, and was starting to get pretty aggressive with the folks who wanted in for refills. He had his back to one side of the doorframe, and when someone would start to enter, he would stomp one foot forward and throw the muzzle of his rifle against the other side of the door. Then he'd issue a loud challenge along the lines of "Identfy yourself"! I think there was also some command to give a secret password or something. This not some cutesy little thing. He was getting TOO serious! Lots of us were getting nervous and trying to see if the bolt was intact, etc. There was a mag in the gun, but no one knew for sure whether it was loaded. Some folks were trying to talk to him, but he was ignoring everything they said. Not cool.

Just about that time, the most unlikely hero arrived. Here's a fairly small guy wearing boots and a cape with a big "B" on it. He's also got some rubber thingy on his head that looked for all the world to be an oversized version of the top of a baby bottle, complete with a rubber nipple-thing sticking straight up from the top. Lots of his wife's makeup on, big red lips, and a pacifier tied around his neck. Besides the cape and boots, the only other clothing he had on was a diaper. Yep, it was "BABY MAN"!

He looks up at the "Sentry" and started shouting orders at this moron in terms he seemed to recognize and understand quite well. He made mention of having MPs with REAL nasty attitudes summoned to offer their opinions. Turns out that Baby Man, when not toddling around stomping out evil as an underaged caped crusader, was a Capitain in the army.

You could see the guy visibly shrinking before Baby Man. He looked like he was going to cry. When Baby Man finally demanded he turn over his weapon he handed it over as meekly as a kitten.

Power to the Pacifier!!!

[carinab]

Installment Four: Here are a few unrelated oddities:

The con had a 24 hour film program and I started my con life as an AV geek. When events at the convention would end for the day, the films would move over to the hotel. I ran into Sergio Aragones (he draws Groo and the little tiny cartoons at the edges of Mad Magazine) late one evening when I was on my way work a film shift. He had a pen in hand and was, I think, a bit tipsy. We wandered down the hall a ways and he says, "Aha, perfect." And next thing I know, he was doing some of those crazy, little drawings on the painting. The paintings that line the hallways in hotels are always those cheesy landscapes. You know, the ones with a split rail fence standing caterwompus in front of a wild flower filled pasture or it's a lake scene with a log cabin. You wouldn't have noticed the tiny crew of cartoons climbing the fence rail unless you were looking for them. I thought it was hilarious and mentioned it to a co-volunteer the next day. He obviously told someone else and word got around. When all was said and done, the con had to buy $8,000.00 worth of new artwork for the hotel to replace all the ones stolen!

As the convention grew, so did the amount of cash going through. I was very careful to keep little of it on hand by scheduling a lot of armored car pick ups to take it to the bank. But this too presented problems because I wanted the guards doing the pick up to take a different route through the center every time they visited. So, I would have one of my assistants meet them and take them on their roundabout journey. When my assistant was close to the office he would hail me on the radio, provide a pass phrase (one meant trouble, the other all clear), and I would unlock the door. So one day it's time for another pick up and we're both tired and have burned through all the boring pass phrases (they changed too). So in honor of the days special programming guest, we decide the pass phrase should be, "The delegation is here to see the Shatner Turbo 2000 hairpiece." Now all the convention staff had handy-talkies and we did use multiple channels. My friend, the security supervisor, had a special one that would scan all the channels and stop where ever there was voice traffic. So just as she is walking our esteemed guest, William Shatner, to his program room, my assistant announces, "The delegation is here to see the Shatner Turbo 2000 hairpiece." Oops! Either he didn't hear the hairpiece bit or he was cool enough not to care, he did ask my friend, however, where the delegation was from. Being quick on her feet, she said it was a star trek fan club.

[diehli]

Methinks Shatner has a great sense of humor. His latest album (released this past Tuesday) is called "Has Been".

http://www.shatnerhasbeen.com/