I grew up a nomad of sorts. My family was transferred around the country every year or so, and I kept that tradition well into adulthood. My first year in NYC was spent in a gorgeous, spacious apartment across from the Brooklyn Museum, during which I lived out of a suitcase. Possessions were just…unnecessary. And cumbersome. Why bother? Continue reading
I married into a strange and foreign culture, with a language and customs I still struggle to understand.
I married a gamer.
My love of gaming was cryogenically frozen circa the Atari 2600, so when my husband made his annual pilgrimage to PAX East this weekend, I thought it might be enlightening (ok, amusing) to tag along and try to absorb as much of the rich and varied traditions of nerd culture as possible.
PAX, or the Penny Arcade Expo, is a massive convention catering to gamers of every stripe – Halo fiends, huddled groups of Magic the Gathering players, LARPers loping through approximated history with katanas and sabers. The spawn of Penny Arcade web comic creators Jerry Holkins and Mike Krahulik (better known as ‘Tycho’ and ‘Gabe’), it’s been growing steadily since the beginning in 2004 and has now split into two locations each year – Seattle (‘PAX Prime’) and Boston (‘PAX East’). Total attendance for just PAX East this year alone topped 69,500. If you had trouble with your WiFi connection in Boston this weekend, you know why.
The show floor is the main draw. It’s the glitz and din of Vegas, and the high rollers are using 20-sided dice. At the Duke Nukem Forever booth (made up like a Bellagio side lobby), ‘naughty schoolgirls’ lean into eager fans for staged photo ops. The soft clicks of a thousand Xbox controllers mingle with simulated battlefield roars, and acres of LCD panels flicker with fantastical violence and adventure. It’s quite a thing to behold.
The real show, however, is the crowd. Yes, it is an ocean of nerds. There is no mistaking this for a radiology conference. Yet, what is most striking upon witnessing this massive gathering of an oft-maligned group is the sheer vibrancy and variety of the people within. Everyone is welcome, and everyone is having fun. I may not know my Master Chief from my Big Daddy, but I was made to feel like part of the team by everyone I encountered, from random cosplayers to battle-weary game journalists. And while I may not speak the language here, I had one hell of a time tossing back beers at a dive bar with my new found friends – something I don’t see happening after my upcoming interior design conference.
So…here’s to the nerds of the world. They know a good adventure when they see one.
(Photos courtesy of the author)
This is the Honey Badger. It’s pretty badass. Look, a snake’s up a tree! Honey Badger don’t care.
…from czg123’s YouTube channel
(special thanks to the legendary Homoviper for introducing us to my new role model)
I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’re feeling pretty stressed out. You’re probably reading this and tracking some motherfucking holiday packages via UPS in another tab, drinking some cold-ass coffee, and hating life right now.
‘I hate the holidays’, you’ll tell your coworkers over some stale, store-bought cookies in the break room. You’ll probably spend some time fantasizing about missing your flight home and instead spending the weekend toward the bottom of a bottle of middle-shelf gin and watching Die Hard, wrapped in last year’s unfortunate Snuggie. I get it, man. I do.
But let me tell you something. The holidays? They’re fucking AWESOME. And you need to pull your head out of your ass and look around, because you’re missing out. Here’s why:
Lights and decorations and shit. Have you looked at these things lately? Not from the top of a rickety ladder you borrowed from the in-laws, clutching a staple gun and freezing your ass off. Go pile your annoying kids in the car, drive through the fucking Tim Horton’s and get yourself a peppermint hot cocoa, and drive through some big-ass festive neighborhoods. Appreciate the work that went into that shit. I don’t care if you have to pretend it’s Laser Floyd, take a minute and really look around. Your kids will probably like this, too.
Christmas carols. Bing Crosby is the man. I don’t care who you are, his rendition of White Christmas will have you shitting candy canes. Almost every version of Carol of the Bells is fucking metal, even sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. And don’t even get me started on Vince Guaraldi’s A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack. All that tree needed was a little love! Shit.
Presents. No, you greedy asshole – buying other people presents. Thoughtful presents. Sure, it’s great getting that brand-new fancy Betamax player or a swell pair of tropical-printed Jams, but the look on a kid’s face when they open up the lead-encrusted plastic cartoon gewgaw they so desperately coveted? Oh, it’ll melt your damn heart. Yes, even yours. Put down the clearance travel mug and try harder. Do it for love. Or, do it to one-up cocky old Aunt Maureen. I don’t care, but they will.
It’s a Wonderful Life. Hope you’ve got a full box of tissues, loser! This one never fails. Zuzu’s petals! Shit, I’m tearing up. I’m ok, I’m ok.
Hot motherfucking cocoa. I’m drinking one now, bitches, and it’s good.
Remember, if you’ve given this whole thing an honest try and you’re still grinchier than a Gosselin on a camping trip, there’s always New Year’s Eve. Take two Xanax, two bottles of champagne, one regrettable hookup, and a walk of shame, and call me in the morning.
There’s always next year.
