Saturday evening, with the day’s enervating heat beginning to lift, fellow reporter Gary Robbins suggested we go for a stroll through the Gaslamp Quarter to take in the sights. It would be a great way to celebrate the end of our workday.
As we expected, Gaslamp on a Comic-Con weekend was filled with superheroes, supervillains and a lot of mundanes like us, people just enjoying the show. Playing the tourist in my native city, I whipped out my cellphone and took some impromptu photos and video clips of the sights that unfolded before us.
We stopped first at Whiskey Girl to fortify ourselves. We ordered the Adam Sandlerwich (a kind of Sloppy Joe; it was passable), and Pikachu’s Punch (Malibu Coconut Rum, vodka, orange juice and Tropical Red Bull; it was spectacular).
Thus strengthened, we sallied forth to encounter the usual suspects: old-time police cars with mini-jails for willing inmates, the Joker and fiendish followers, unicorns and zombies in varying stages of decomposition. (Visually, not, thankfully, olfactorily).
As I write this, it’s Sunday afternoon, and in a few hours it will be time to revisit the Gaslamp for my annual end-of-Comic-Con ritual: Sushi with my friend (and Comic-Con ubermaven) Luke Y. Thompson and his wife, Julia, a fellow Dark Shadows devotee.
I’m looking forward to sea urchin, eel and perhaps some octopus. At least I think it will be octopus. Given what goes on at Comic-Con, it could well be Cthulhu.
Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn!