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Anthrocon Observations
12 years ago
General
"Are you guys going to be in town next weekend? They've got this furry con thing going on downtown. It's like, people who dress up like animals and act like animals." So said Jack, the guy riding with us on the express bus from the airport. I'd never been to Anthrocon before but I'd heard that the city was welcoming to our community, and unofficial town representative Jack--a 20-something retail employee--seemed to reinforce that feeling. He had no idea we were furries at the time and he spoke of the event as... well... an event! Not an embarrassment or a freak show, but of a Real Big Deal ™ in the city. Even though Jack might have been a bit off on the con dates, it was a pretty good omen.
But then the bus driver, obviously being sabotaged by Dennis Hopper and without Keanu Reeves to save the situation, roared right past the stop at 7th and Smithfield. Eight furries on the bus gasped in fear 'Oh no!' said one. 'Why isn't he stopping?' said another. 'We're all going to die!' yipped a third**. We raced past the Doubletree, past the hockey stadium, under a bridge and into Oakland, miles and miles (well, blocks and blocks) from the convention center. Furries swarmed the driver, 'Help!' 'You've got to stop!' 'We're all going to die!' they said. How ever would this ragtag group of furries get back to the convention center and salvage their vacation weekend? How would they survive in this foreign part of this foreign city? It wasn't that hard, actually. The bus driver pointed out that even though several people had pulled the 'request stop' cord, nobody stood up (??) so he just kept going. He gave us all transfer slips and instructed us to walk a few blocks over and catch any bus going the other direction. They would take us back to Furry Mecca. So the eight of us trudged down sidewalks, some of us carrying conspicuously large suitcases, others wearing t-shirts with wolves and cats and dingos on them. It felt like a scene from an indie movie. A very short, not-that-interesting indie movie. We got back to the con in short order, but I still think Dennis Hopper was involved somehow.
** - Events may be embellished for dramatic effect
<--->
I've been to several furry cons before but only a small handful with a suit and never have I voluntarily worn a suit outside in public before, but I didn't have much choice this year. I'd be staying at the Doubletree, a good 5-blocks away from the Westin with the convention center another block beyond that. I'd have to walk it in suit in 85F+ temperatures and very high humidity. Yay for Heatgear ™!
I was nervous as I walked outside. I had no handler and had only a cursory knowledge of the layout of the city, but there I was, a giant snow leopard strolling down 6th Street. Cars honked, but it was to wave and give a thumbs up instead of to flip the bird. People asked for pictures. Others stated the obvious that 'It sure must be hot in there'. The vibe Jack-from-the-bus gave was dead on: The city was welcoming and tolerant.
<--->
At some point I'm going to be in a supermarket line and see 'Try the new Fursuit Diet!' splashed across the front page of a tabloid, probably next to a story about the most recent sighting of BatBoy at the Pentagon. I know, it's nothing new to point out how hot it can get in a fursuit, but just to put it in context I spent the 7 weeks leading up to Anthrocon participating in an walking challenge at work. I was walking 5-7 miles per day, every day and in the course of those 7 weeks I lost 0.0 pounds. After two afternoons of suiting at Anthrocon I lost 6 pounds. So yeah. Next time Seth Rogan or Jonah Hill needs to shed a few pounds for a role, may I suggest donning a fursuit and romping around a furry con for a weekend?
<--->
Sobo was right when he told me that the fursuit parade was commonly referred to as a death march. As we milled about the dealer's room Saturday morning he let me know what to expect: cramped quarters, interminable waits, and a loooong slooooow walk. I didn't *totally* brush him off but in my head I was thinking 'Hey, I just spent 4h in suit yesterday all by myself. I'm sure I can handle it. Hur hur hur!' I'd never been in a fursuit parade of any kind, and was naive about how stressful the experience would be. We gathered in a huge, air conditioned convention hall which you'd think would be plenty fine. Except that we were crammed together and had to stand completely still for 2 full minutes while they took a panoramic camera shot. That's not an exaggeration: They ticked off the time... 30 seconds.... 45.... halfway there... A minute 20 now.... I thought camera technology had advanced beyond that 'stand perfectly still' thing sometime around 1950? If they had taken a thermal image photo of all 1300 fursuiters I am sure the room would have looked like a supernova. Finally the photo was done, but then began the waiting. It took a good 10-15 minutes until it was our turn to go, 10-15 minutes of standing shoulder to shoulder with hyper-hot fuzzballs. There were no chairs to sit on. There was no room to sit down.
I marched with other Scribblers Jager, Sobo and Kaelian. It was a surreal experience. Everyone lining the parade route had cameras. Everyone. And they were pointed everywhere. I wanted to wave, but to who? I'd spot cameras pointed at Jager's impressive rack in front of me and Sobo's brilliant blue eyes right behind me and I didn't want to wave like a doof to those cameras because I didn't want to seem like I was trying to photobomb the shot. So I just sort of stumbled my way through the march, er, parade until it mercifully let out into an impromptu headless lounge. I don't know if there's really a way to practice being in a fursuit parade other than to imagine yourself a pompous celebrity and just wave blindly to nobody in particular and hope that the photographers happen to be looking your way when you do.
<--->
I went into the weekend with exceedingly low expectations. I only knew a small pawful of furries who would be attending and they were almost all going to be spending every waking hour and several sleeping hours working in the dealer's den or presenting panels. I knew only one other fur who would be there, but he was a fraction of my age and you never know how generational gaps are going to go over in person. It could wind up with big awkward silences:
Me - 'I remember when Prince changed his name to a symbol'
Him - 'Who?'
Crickets - *chirp*
But hanging out with the 20-somethings wasn't too bad. In order to protect their identities I'll simply call them 'Bobcat', 'Ringtail', and 'Bananadog' because I don't think they'd want it known that they were hanging out with an older dorkwad. They made for excellent dinner conversations on Saturday night and I thank them for putting up for my pointless rambles. It was quite enjoyable watching the three of them trying to drive in Forza while thoroughly blitzed on sake, and it was similarly entertaining listening to a tipsy Ringtail rant about just about everything: 'I hate foxes and how they clog up the elevators!'; 'Those fursuits look dumb dancing like that'; 'I hate losers who go all the way to a furry con to go play in the video game room.... Hey, let's go to the video game room!'
<--->
In the end I am glad I went. The time went by way too fast (as it always does) but I had a good time and it was nice to to put faces behind some of those FA/user pages I've grown so accustomed to seeing. So now the countdown starts for next year... Just three hundred and fifty some days til AC 2014!
But then the bus driver, obviously being sabotaged by Dennis Hopper and without Keanu Reeves to save the situation, roared right past the stop at 7th and Smithfield. Eight furries on the bus gasped in fear 'Oh no!' said one. 'Why isn't he stopping?' said another. 'We're all going to die!' yipped a third**. We raced past the Doubletree, past the hockey stadium, under a bridge and into Oakland, miles and miles (well, blocks and blocks) from the convention center. Furries swarmed the driver, 'Help!' 'You've got to stop!' 'We're all going to die!' they said. How ever would this ragtag group of furries get back to the convention center and salvage their vacation weekend? How would they survive in this foreign part of this foreign city? It wasn't that hard, actually. The bus driver pointed out that even though several people had pulled the 'request stop' cord, nobody stood up (??) so he just kept going. He gave us all transfer slips and instructed us to walk a few blocks over and catch any bus going the other direction. They would take us back to Furry Mecca. So the eight of us trudged down sidewalks, some of us carrying conspicuously large suitcases, others wearing t-shirts with wolves and cats and dingos on them. It felt like a scene from an indie movie. A very short, not-that-interesting indie movie. We got back to the con in short order, but I still think Dennis Hopper was involved somehow.
** - Events may be embellished for dramatic effect
<--->
I've been to several furry cons before but only a small handful with a suit and never have I voluntarily worn a suit outside in public before, but I didn't have much choice this year. I'd be staying at the Doubletree, a good 5-blocks away from the Westin with the convention center another block beyond that. I'd have to walk it in suit in 85F+ temperatures and very high humidity. Yay for Heatgear ™!
I was nervous as I walked outside. I had no handler and had only a cursory knowledge of the layout of the city, but there I was, a giant snow leopard strolling down 6th Street. Cars honked, but it was to wave and give a thumbs up instead of to flip the bird. People asked for pictures. Others stated the obvious that 'It sure must be hot in there'. The vibe Jack-from-the-bus gave was dead on: The city was welcoming and tolerant.
<--->
At some point I'm going to be in a supermarket line and see 'Try the new Fursuit Diet!' splashed across the front page of a tabloid, probably next to a story about the most recent sighting of BatBoy at the Pentagon. I know, it's nothing new to point out how hot it can get in a fursuit, but just to put it in context I spent the 7 weeks leading up to Anthrocon participating in an walking challenge at work. I was walking 5-7 miles per day, every day and in the course of those 7 weeks I lost 0.0 pounds. After two afternoons of suiting at Anthrocon I lost 6 pounds. So yeah. Next time Seth Rogan or Jonah Hill needs to shed a few pounds for a role, may I suggest donning a fursuit and romping around a furry con for a weekend?
<--->
Sobo was right when he told me that the fursuit parade was commonly referred to as a death march. As we milled about the dealer's room Saturday morning he let me know what to expect: cramped quarters, interminable waits, and a loooong slooooow walk. I didn't *totally* brush him off but in my head I was thinking 'Hey, I just spent 4h in suit yesterday all by myself. I'm sure I can handle it. Hur hur hur!' I'd never been in a fursuit parade of any kind, and was naive about how stressful the experience would be. We gathered in a huge, air conditioned convention hall which you'd think would be plenty fine. Except that we were crammed together and had to stand completely still for 2 full minutes while they took a panoramic camera shot. That's not an exaggeration: They ticked off the time... 30 seconds.... 45.... halfway there... A minute 20 now.... I thought camera technology had advanced beyond that 'stand perfectly still' thing sometime around 1950? If they had taken a thermal image photo of all 1300 fursuiters I am sure the room would have looked like a supernova. Finally the photo was done, but then began the waiting. It took a good 10-15 minutes until it was our turn to go, 10-15 minutes of standing shoulder to shoulder with hyper-hot fuzzballs. There were no chairs to sit on. There was no room to sit down.
I marched with other Scribblers Jager, Sobo and Kaelian. It was a surreal experience. Everyone lining the parade route had cameras. Everyone. And they were pointed everywhere. I wanted to wave, but to who? I'd spot cameras pointed at Jager's impressive rack in front of me and Sobo's brilliant blue eyes right behind me and I didn't want to wave like a doof to those cameras because I didn't want to seem like I was trying to photobomb the shot. So I just sort of stumbled my way through the march, er, parade until it mercifully let out into an impromptu headless lounge. I don't know if there's really a way to practice being in a fursuit parade other than to imagine yourself a pompous celebrity and just wave blindly to nobody in particular and hope that the photographers happen to be looking your way when you do.
<--->
I went into the weekend with exceedingly low expectations. I only knew a small pawful of furries who would be attending and they were almost all going to be spending every waking hour and several sleeping hours working in the dealer's den or presenting panels. I knew only one other fur who would be there, but he was a fraction of my age and you never know how generational gaps are going to go over in person. It could wind up with big awkward silences:
Me - 'I remember when Prince changed his name to a symbol'
Him - 'Who?'
Crickets - *chirp*
But hanging out with the 20-somethings wasn't too bad. In order to protect their identities I'll simply call them 'Bobcat', 'Ringtail', and 'Bananadog' because I don't think they'd want it known that they were hanging out with an older dorkwad. They made for excellent dinner conversations on Saturday night and I thank them for putting up for my pointless rambles. It was quite enjoyable watching the three of them trying to drive in Forza while thoroughly blitzed on sake, and it was similarly entertaining listening to a tipsy Ringtail rant about just about everything: 'I hate foxes and how they clog up the elevators!'; 'Those fursuits look dumb dancing like that'; 'I hate losers who go all the way to a furry con to go play in the video game room.... Hey, let's go to the video game room!'
<--->
In the end I am glad I went. The time went by way too fast (as it always does) but I had a good time and it was nice to to put faces behind some of those FA/user pages I've grown so accustomed to seeing. So now the countdown starts for next year... Just three hundred and fifty some days til AC 2014!
I like to make a habit of suiting out of the con space...mostly because I am too lazy to get out of suit when my buddies want to go eat, and all my friends are terrible at navigation so we sort of walk around lost for a few days.
There's only one con i've been to where people were negative and flat out rude, but nothing, nooothing compares to the warm reception at anthrocon.
hope to see you at AC sometime.
AC is the first place I've seen where the resturants know what's up enough to put up signs saying if they're cool with suiters or not. it was one place, but having that really showed they totally were welcoming and understood what furries do, even if they weren't comfortable serving fully headed suiters.