If you follow me on Twitter you would have seen my comic con observations, in which I sent out my weird thoughts whenever something struck me. I was doing that because New York Comic Con is such a sensory overload that I have to capture my ideas as I have them or risk losing them forever. There's so much to see from the people, to the booths, to the toys I always feel like I've been lobotomized the day after. Even last night when we got home and the cats were shunning us for daring to leave them overnight, Sharon and I just kind of melted into the couch and stared mindlessly at the tv, unable to form complete sentences. And we were only there for two days. I couldn't imagine the recovery time we would need if we went all four. We would probably need to go to rehab and be taught English again.
And not to mention the physical toll it takes on your body when you're trying to shuffle around amid 100,000 plus people. My legs feel like they could kick down a healthy tree. I would have thought these were just signs of me getting older, but as we ate lunch we were seated next to a father and his young son, who was maybe ten or eleven. This was only about two hours after the doors opened and this kid looked like he was in a coma. He just stared into the ether, mouth agape as he held his sandwich in his lap. He could only nod in response to conversation and even his blinks looked as if they took every bit of energy he had left. It made me feel better about myself, like death wasn't as imminent as if felt at the moment.
But don't let this make you think we didn't enjoy ourselves, because we really did. We bought lots of stuff, met a lot of new people, and saw lots of folks we only see once a year. And we went to our second panel ever and saw Bryan Cranston aka Walter White from Breaking Bad, which was pretty cool. I'll be doing more focused recaps all week and uploading photos to our Facebook page as soon as I get a chance.
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