I pulled up to the driveway of a quaint house in downtown San Jose where a blue-haired schoolgirl awaited my arrival. It was my little sister Trina. "Hop in," I told her. She complied and sat herself in the passenger seat of my compact car. We began the hour long drive to somewhere in Antioch for a relatively new convention known as Asahi-Con. Founded by convention veteran Jason Ebner as a reminder of Recca Con from long ago, Asahi-Con was full of potential as fellow convention veterans like myself promised to attend to show the potential of this little high school convention. Every convention has to start somewhere.

We began passing though a commercial district filled with various ATMs when Trina asked me to find a place for her to withdraw cash. We had to stop here, it was bank country. While she waited her turn to get some cash, I could see some pro-life advocates protesting in front of a Planned Paranthood buidling. Those idiots might have made bigger waves had they protested on a weekday when the facility was actually open. Once Trina withdrew her money, we went back to zomming up the 680N listening to Lady Gaga.

Deciding on a costume to wear to Asahi-Con was a delicate issue. I really sold myself on dressing up as my writing hero Hunter S. Thompson. So what if he was not an anime character? The gonzo journalism tactic of putting himself inside the story he was covering has been the very thing Traveling Valentine does during convention reports that he simply must be honored. The potential problems that I foresaw were several logistical ones. First, who in high school would recognize and acknowledge a prolific writer among the sea of Vocaloids and other Japanese costumes with color schemes that Ray Charles selected? Second, while Hunter S. Thompson and I share a huge respect for firearms, the high school setting of Asahi-Con meant having to stow all magnum revolvers and automatic rifles for this venture. If any bats, bears, or Republicans stormed the convention, the only things I had to combat them were judo and harsh language. Third while the use of drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes helped propel my persona nicely, high schools tend to frown upon them on campus. But after milling through the potential problems, I chucked them all into the wind and went with that costume.

While finding the Antioch High School where Asahi-Con was located was an easy task thanks to the colorful signage, parking was a bit more complicated due to my Asian driving skills. Knowing Jason Ebner helped me save a couple bucks on registration so I paid for Trina's badge since it was only $2. Asahi-Con had a simple layout and convenient map telling the locations of the swap meet, panels, theater, card gaming, and food vending. Trina displaced for her Yu-Gi-Oh card playing while I surveyed the scene. Ont he grassy knoll trained the school militia using foam boffer weapons. I remember my high school days when we trained in wooden bats and pistols. While the students and teachers were skilled with their boffers, they would be no match for any drug crazed armored bears that dared to invade them. The swap meet had lots of potential. I asked one vendor to get down to brass tacks and tell me how much for the Soundwave. He gave me a figure that was too high too swallow, so I took a few more hits of my prop Vicodin to reach that high. Yomi and Kei had their booth of stuff to sell so I spent time hanging with them.

The trouble with reporting on relatively new small conventions is actually finding anything to report. I was hoping to get a scoop on the latest news about illegal animal trading and cockfighting, but only three people were involved counting myself. Since they are both new and small, these conventions are less conventions and more convenient places for friends to hang out. And the discussions that come up during the hanging out are usually best contained within the privacy of the cliques who are hanging out. Nevertheless, if one person has something to say to another person, it will be a hell of a lot more efficient and less dramatic to just directly go up to the intended person and talk directly. Then again, cliques thrive on drama to feed egos since they lack the courage to face a direct conversation. Though when it does come time for someone to play hardball against another, I usually ignore the hardball thrown at me. Instead, I swing my bat at the ones pitching the ball at me. It drags a lot fewer people into the fray and I get to crack my figurative wooden bat into the skull of the senseless drama.

Being a grizzled old veteran of the convention scene, the only panel I had interest in was the Transformers toy panel. The panelist had a collection that blew mine out of the water and he really knew his stuff from the frustration of finding a particular toy at the right price to eBay issues to even the crap that is Transformers RiD.

A little advice: If the woman you are after has no interest in you the first time you chased after her, the tenth time she rejects you is a good clue she is not into you. Stop hovering over her. Stop asking her out. Stop taking sniping photos of her from poor angles. Stop bringing other people into your woes. Stop trying to win her friends over to win her over. Just stop. Dragging me into the fray only distrupts my productivity and I end up writing articles about this when I should be writing game reviews.

With Asahi-Con feeling like a high school club activity instead of a full-fledged convention--perhaps more big name guests or panels for us veterans to amuse ourselves with will boost the convention's rep--a bunch of us veterans decided to hit the Milpitas Golfland for some arcade action. Though arcade action gave way to bizarre interpersonal relationship action. Some times the vindictive actions of the previously scorned are just stirring the drama pot over something beyond their control. It does not work on those who have moved on. Dinner was at the local Milpitas Italian spot Giorgio's. We managed to overstay our welcome as the final diners there as a table of nine. Psychic premonitions proved to be false as I got word about alleged actions one would take on another. i had to live up to my Doctor reputation providing one Heimlich maneuver on Bart and dispensing painkillers for Trina during dinner. I figure the life I saved evens out any ill feelings against me and those who think otherwise are rather ungrateful. Yomi made an excellent toast and declaration against the drama llamas who attempted to sway people over to their camps. I am so glad to have found a strong willed woman.

Yomi, Vivi, and I retired to a hotel save point after dropping Trina off at home. The hotel was booked due to basketball games and a female hockey tournament but luckily we did get our room. The restful evening was kindly disturbed with constant drunken rambling that oddly enough did not come from me. A lovely shot of the aftermath from the room that caused the ruckus spoke louder than they did.

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