A Bouquet of Body Odor - or How I Learned to Stop Smelling and Enjoy the New York ComicCon

I am aware of personal space. I am also aware of an individual's comfort zone. I am aware that some people's comfort zones exist solely in the space below their parents house. Yes, I am referring to that pastiest of creatures...the ComicCon attendee. Now this may sound like a disclaimer, but let it be known I RARELY apologize BEFORE I offend, so I'll start by saying that I too am a ComicCon attendee. I bought my tickets, I made my wishlist of items that I wanted to purchase...I even printed out a floor plan of the show. I am a convention goer and I am a comic book fan. Now, I have, in the comic book world, more of an everyman's knowledge of comic books that the die hard purist that comprises a large portion of the comic book convention audience. I have a select number of books that I've always followed, and I am a reader moreso than I am a collector. I know a considerable amount of comic trivia compared to those outside of the industry, but compared to they guy with the custom leather x-men suit (so he also had circa 90's reeboks on) I am not "living the dream", I am simply a spectator. That being said, the stands us spectators were relegated to were, unfortunately, downwind.

My hygein varies depending on my mood. However, I will, at the very least, work to disguise my dissent from the world around with a combination of deodorant and cologne. I might smell like a whore, but I don't smell like a whore in a ditch. Now, if I can use the participant to spectator analogy again, I'll draw a parallel to Nascar...even though any one who knows me knows that i do not understand the world of competitive racing... I just know that it is keeping the Cling-On windshield decal industry alive. My lack of understanding aside, I can only guess that race car drivers work up a sweat behind the wheel. I can then also assume that a LARPER (Live Action Role Player) sweats behind their imaginary wheel. The distinction between the two is that the race car driver does then not process to sit in the stands with the fans when his/her race is over. Could be that the race car driver realizes that as fumes roll out of their car's exhaust, fumes are rolling out of their own exhaust. This concept, much to my disapointment, is lost on the majority of convention goers.

If Yankee Candle Company ever needs to research a new smell codenamed ASS, I think I can be of some assistance. I even have a floor plan. The New York Comicon needs a Renuzit the size of a grain silo. With more time and a well engineered action plan, I could have made a difference. Unfortunately I was too busy trying to find my "happy place". A happy place filled with flowers, and soft breezes carrying the smells of spring to my now molested nostrils.

In closing..by all means attend the New York Comic Con and have a blast...a blast of ass to rape your olfactory nerve. Just don';t ever let your nose watch The Accused again as the trauma is just way too much.

Ash