Conned

When I worked at EDS, we would occasionally go for lunch at a small motel not too far from the office. It wasn't a particularly classy place, but what make it unique was that it had an attached 'convention center' which could hold several moderately large events. Once, when we were there, a Star Trek convention was in progress. We looked with some bemusement at the throngs pressing in to get to the various rooms where talks and presentations were going on, their eyes alight with eagerness. I liked Star Trek, and still do, but these people -- teens, for the most part, loved it. I didn't understand that level of captivation. What completely astounded me, though, was when one minivan disgorged a portly fellow in complete Klingon uniform. He knew that every eye was upon him, and he strutted as he entered the building. He glowed.

At Zenkaikan, he'd have been noticed, but only for a moment. The range and depth of the costumes there astounded me. About a quarter of the attendees didn't have a costume at all; another ten percent had a minimal costume -- cut-out symbols pinned to a shirt, or a rakish hat. Fully half had a costume over which they'd clearly spent many hours, sewing, painting, even welding, and they were easily as good as that Klingon warrior. The remaining fifteen percent -- well, they could have just come from a professional, Broadway-level presentation. Their outfits awed the others, and they knew it. Every eye was on them, and as they walked, they glowed.

Most of the costumes were references to Japanese comics; some, like the one that looked like a British Revolutionary War musketman, or the one in World War II German officer's cap (complete with death's head insignia), uniform jacket, glistening jackboots, and pink hot pants were harder to understand. So I asked. The first said that she was a Prussian musketman, while the second told me, helpfully, that she was a German officer, part of the same 'world' theme as the first.

That got me. Not what the costumes were, but their attitudes. They weren't dismissive -- what, you don't know what a otaku is? -- which I'd have expected from a bunch of teens talking to someone like me who clearly didn't fit in. They were happy to talk about who they 'were', how they fit in with each other, what the symbols meant, how they'd made their costumes. They were enthusiasts, in the best sense of the word. When I was their age, I'd have blown off someone forty years older who was asking about their passion, but they didn't. I liked that.

I am not a fan of anime, but this weekend I learned something about them. And, you know? I kind of liked that these kids -- I don't say that pejoratively -- have something that they believe in so strongly, so intently. I suppose they could go too far, but in this little con, nobody seemed to do that. There were just having a damn good time.

Very cool.