Next Time, I'm Mr. Guanxhaio!

At Sam's Club they have a policy whereby at the end of your checkout process, if the cashier does not thank you by name, you get to take a dollar that sits in front of the cashier register. The dollar is placed between two plastic panels, set against the sign that tells us to take it IF we aren't thanked by name.

I read that and not a second later my mind was taken with the image of me with a dollar in hand. There was a Korean family in front of us and I monitored the cashier. While folding up the receipt, he looked at the customer's name on his membership card and simply said "Thank you." Maybe this is my lucky day. I eagerly stood in front of the dollar display as the final items were rung up and he took the receipt and my card and said, politely, "Thank you Mr. Roberts."

"DAMNIT!"

He knew what was up; he had a smirk on his face. I should've jumped the counter and slit his fucking throat, that's what I should've done. But instead, I said thanks and left without incident.

I now however have a reason to go to Sam's Club. I WANT that dollar.

Otakon 2004: Plug Your Nose

Friday, July 30, 2004
Brian and I left for Baltimore early in the afternoon, allowing ample time for the Indy airport's world-renowned, retarded security force. They were, as I had predicted, as rude as they were slow. Problems first arose quite conveniently when we arrived at the ticket counter to claim our tickets through the automated machine. You see, I'm a terrorist.

For those of you who aren't already aware, my name evidently is on a terrorist watch-list at airports across the country. Not because they actually know about all the planes I've terrorized in the past, but because of a supposed "old Iranian guy" who tries to go by my name, Nicholas Roberts, when he flies. Therefore, when I left the country in March to go to Tokyo and now Baltimore, my flight tickets have been callously branded with four S's to put me through the special security line. It didn't matter that my line was 1/10th as long as that of "regular" security; I had to wait thrice as long as Brian, only to prove to the man with the magic wand that I wasn't hiding a bomb in my socks.

So you're probably wondering, "But Nicky, aren't you going to tell us about Otakon?" Yes, bastards. We met our friend Mike at the airport and caught a shuttle toward our hotel in downtown Baltimore. We happened to pass right by the Baltimore Convention Center around 9:30pm-ish, and it was clear: it probably stunk outside. This is because the otaku were frolicking around, both inside and outside the convention center, and no doubt was this putting immense strain on their only line of defense to body odor--their Naruto costumes (which were RoXOrz, BTW). Oh, are you familiar with the word "otaku"? If not, let's just say it means 'fanboy', but anything you can imagine, it was 10x as ridiculous here.

We checked in at our $270/night room at the Hyatt Regency Baltimore and rushed to find the Otakon registration booths. After 30 minutes of being denied by--hey, surprise!--retarded security guards, we decided to take the next reasonable step and just break in. At the registration table, this morbidly obese man (with what looked like coral reef growing on his forearms (???)) helped us with our badges. Finally, no longer were we illegitimate children floating lost in the system. We had badges.

Saturday, July 31, 2004
Got like 4 hours of sleep; had to tune out the sounds of love-making coming from Brian and Mike's way*. The line that had already begun to form at 8:00am outside the convention center stretched hundreds of people. Brian jumped in at 8:30 and shortly after that I politely cut in front of those behind him by "not giving a shit because what are you gonna do, dickweeds?" The doors opened at 9:05 and, luckily, the otaku retained line formation after entering the expansive convention center. Brian and I broke apart from status quo and walked up the stairs directly next to the narrow elevator. I heard a bitch say "Heyyyyy!" to us. Heh. We were on a mission: PROCURE OUR PRESS BADGES AND L'ARC~EN~CIEL PASSES.

We acquired the L'arc pass and headed over to the press station where we picked up our LAMINATED press badges with our names already printed on them. Oh my god, you can suck it so hard, otaku! With Brian, I commenced sauntering around with not only one but two badges on; the press badge around my neck and--let's just call it my "peasant badge"--tied to my belt loop. From that moment on at Otakon 2004, I transcended my already hubristic posture and felt right in judging those for whom only one badge decorated.

Let me say a quick word on the otaku. The night before, we got a chance to stop in at the Otaku Rave. I had never been repulsed, or I should say violated, quite like that. The common assumption indeed is true. They stink....a lot. Ok back to scheduled programming...

Anthony joined very soon after that and we dicked around Otakon until joining the L'arc~en~ciel concert line at 3:15pm. It was an interesting experience having lunch at Burger King that day. I had the rare pleasure of dining with various samurai and other Japanese archetypical anime characters carrying large cardboard swords. Did you know Naruto likes the #2 Value Meal (biggie sized)? So the concert came and went and we had very good seats in the 12,000 seat arena. It was everything we hoped it would be and more. For instance, Ken (guitarist) must have went through 3 or 4 guitars, throwing each one down as it did not perform up to his standards. Hyde (vocals) surprised everyone by changing his lead-in of "Ready Steady Go" to "Ahhh yuuu fukking readyyy??!" For a more in-depth report of this concert, visit http://www.aleong.com/blog/2004_08_01_blogarchive.109141750065231944 and also the linked L'arc page.

For us, now not only was Otakon complete, but so were our lives. Especially Brian's. In celebration, I spent $9 on a beer in a souvenier glass at Hard Rock Cafe later that evening and even that felt good. Our night was capped by some comic relief coming from a passing car on our return toward the hotel. Some exotically dressed otaku dotted the sidewalks in our area, and someone from inside the vehicle yelled out "Fuck Yu-Gi-Oh!" as they sped by.

Sunday, August 1, 2004
Saw our last hours of Otakon 2004 and headed to the airport. You may recall my woes in and around these ports of air. As we were close to the nation's capitol, security was even tighter than at Indy (I know this is hard for you to imagine, but please, try). You might think this is funny, so I'll tell you what happened at the Baltimore airport. With 4 S's marked on my ticket, I was again ushered to the special security line. I shoved my stuff on through the x-ray conveyor belt and made it through the metal detector. Success!! One more step to go and I'm free I thought. After the invasive bag check (I guess if they really wanna touch my drawers, its their prerogotive) another lady checked my ticket for the final time and looked up, somewhat alarmed. "You're not supposed to be in this line. You're in the wrong line."

Thinking that the entire security branch at the airport must have a terrorist watch-list memorized in their heads, I lazed my eyebrows and knowingly said to her, "I think I have a special name. . ." I kind of deliberately paused for a realization that never came. "I'm golden," I thought to myself.**

She certainly didn't react the way I predicted. Once again, she insisted that I was in the wrong place and proceeded in getting louder. Maybe she used to work at the Indy airport, for it was then that I decided to become Rogue Squad Leader and point out to her the four S's on my ticket. "Oh, there they are. You're fine." Thanks, lady. I boarded my plane and left behind a city which probably still stunk of B.O., along with the beggars and their stories of their wives leaving them. I also left behind about $500 of my own money (HOLY FUCK.) but to see L'arc~en~ciel and the sort-of human spectacle that was Otakon 2004, I'd say yes, it was worth it.

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*Huh huh. Huh. Hahahahaha.
**Perhaps because I still had on my press badge.