The Javits Center Screw Job Redux: The New York Comic Con

It's that time of year again. Grown men are getting into fist fights over the most coveted gifts of the season, credit card companies are laughing all the way to the bank, I've developed a borderline unhealthy fondness for the Scotch in the liquor cabinet....and the organizers of the NYCC are filling my inbox with advertising wrapped up in shiny little bundles of hype.

The great question of Life, the Universe and Everything, is this:

After last year's debacle should I bother going? Or will I be left standing outside again, because incompetent event management still hasn't mastered basic math and will be leaving the local fire inspector to pull an Earl Hebner?



I'd like to say I'm hopeful, but considering that I lost a good 6 hours of my life (2.5 of which was spent staring at the costumed patron ahead of me in line's spandex clad back fat, try to gouge that visual out of your cerebral cortex) , the cost of those 2 useless preregistrations and $200 in travel expenses, that solitary free ticket and a small box of promo materials I was sent just seems like the fanboy/girl equivalent of Vince Mcmahon's infamous "Bret screwed Bret" speech.


I'm leaving the decision to you, fellow PTP-ers and random net surfers:

Should I stay or should I go?

Trying to weigh the options without some outside perspective has made me need some more of that Scotch.