1:30 AM, August 29,2002. I imagined what a Georgia State Trooper would see if I passed his check point right now: A fat, balding white guy, 55 miles from Newnan, Georgia, driving 85 miles an hour on the Interstate. He's had six hours of sleep in the last 56 hours. His eyes refuse to focus. All the windows of his Expedition are rolled down. "Crazy Train" blares out of the his stereo. He is singing the "Now I know my ABC's" song. He wants to stay awake. I would have laughed if I had the energy. I probably looked as strange as anything I would see the next day at Dragon*Con fan festival in Atlanta.

     11:00 AM, August 30, 2002. Lost in downtown Atlanta. "No Jonathan, don't print out the directions to the convention, I'll rememeber how to get there!" I think those were my words before I left Newnan. I saw a young, white guy walking down the sidewalk. The young guy was wearing brown, furry, hip boots and a long-flowing, purple cape. It was time for my first stupid question of the day: "Are you going to Dragon*Con?" Where else would someone in a purple cape be going? The young guy politely pointed me to the convention and went his merry way. I found a parking space some distance from the host hotel. A skinny drunk stood beside the my SUV. The skinny drunk stomped several fried-chicken bones into the asphalt and muttered, "That's what you get when you mess with me!" This is going to be an interesting day.

     12:00 AM. "White folks sure are strange," said an elderly black man in town attending a convention of Southern Black leaders. The old man watched as two Star Wars' storm troopers, a Klingon, and several gothic musicians walked past him. The old guy looked to his right. I smiled as a cigarette dangled from from my mouth. His comment was only half correct. Dragon*Con 2002 was being attended by black, white, and yellow folks dressed and undressed in all sorts of fantasy costumes. "I guess we're all a bit strange," I thought. As I turned to enter the Marriot Marquis Hotel, one of the two luxury hotels hosting the Dragon*Con convention I had to suck in my gut. A drop dead georgous redhead stepped out of the Marriot. She was dressed up as the sexy comic book heroine "Dawn." I approached her and assured her that I wasn't a letch (I lied). Kellie, that was her name, apathetically agreed to let me take her photo her photo to illustrate my Dragon*Con article. I wished I were 20 years younger, 40 pounds lighter, and had 20% more hair.

     Once inside the hotel, I noticed that folks in costumes tend to walk slower than an overweight journalist trying to get to an interview with a movie star. I bumped into a Boba Fett wannabe. I was always a bit clumsy. "Sorry man," I said. (My momma taught me manners!) "If you break anything on this outfit you had better have cash money to replace it right now," barked the Boba Fett clone. You never have a light saber around when you really need one.

     I found movie star heaven. A large convention hall containing vendors and celebrities. To get to the celebrities, I had to pass a large number of vendors. Some artwork caught my eye. Mark Geyer did the pen-and-ink illustrations for several Stephen King books. I bought an autographed print of his drawing of the electric chair from The Green Mile. I wondered what my clients at the Public Defender's office in Memphis would think of this picture hanging on my wall. Next I ran into Dan Henderson (www.mindspring.com/~hendall). His artwork amused and disturbed me. I wondered if his childhood had been as screwed up as mine.

     I finally found the movie stars, and spotted actor David Naughton (American Werewolf in London). He signed my copy of Phil Hardy's Encyclopedia of Horror Films. Mr. Naughton agreed to do an interview later and asked for $10.00 for the autograph. Doesn't anyone respect the press anymore.

     Moving down the line, I spotted Jerome Blake. The six-foot-six actor from England was very gracious and agreed to sit and talk. Lots of pretty women came up and talked to Mr. Blake. Pretty women never come up an talk to me. The interview goes well. A photo of Mr. Blake in a Jack costume from The Nightmare Before Christmas with director Tim Burton was displayed on Mr. Blake's table. This prompted my second stupid question of the day: "What was it like to work with Tim Burton?" Realizing that Nightmare was an animated film, I tried to back-peddle. "You're not alone. A lot of people ask that stupid question," Mr. Blake said graciously. "I was hired to wear the costume at a premiere party for the film." I got up to take a photo for his article. I spilled the contents of his back-pack all over the woman sitting behind me. I turned to apologize to the woman and realized I had almost crushed Mrs. Kenny Baker. She laughed. I wondered what would happen to me if I had seriously injured Mrs. R2D2. Kenny Baker signed my son's DVD of The Phantom Menace. Mrs. R2D2 made sure that I paid for the autographs. "They wouldn't have asked for money if I were from "60 Minutes!" I thought. I moved on to interview David "Darth Vader" Prowse (www.daveprowse.com) and Peter "Chewbacca" Mayhew (www.petermayhew.com). I wanted to party with Peter Mayhew. He was very, very cool. Mayhew didn't charge for his autograph.

     Time for another smoke. A silver-painted chick in a black leather bra was talking to a blue haired guy. Time for another photo. Melanie aka "Rabidchyld" explained that she was a "garden variety silver demon." I wondered what a non-garden variety silver demon would look like. Her partner was Dan Steele. I couldn't resist a porn star wisecrack. I made it up to the blue haired guy by promising to plug Dan's web-site (www.steelearms.com). Dan explained that he manufactures fantasy knives and swords for folks who attend conventions like this one. Back to work.

     The TV screen showed a Chinese guy blowing the heads off of vampires. Very cool. A sexy, young, oriental lady named Cherry Enoki stood in front of the booth. I sucked in my gut once more. Cherry told me she is the editor of a work in progress called God of Vampires. Cherry introduced me to Rob Fitz (www.godofvampires.com), the film's director. He proved to be very passionate about his work. Rob talked as he applied some gruesome wound make-up on his girlfriend's face--the lighter side of domestic violence.

     Tennessee filmmaker J. Alan Tripp (www.Batwolffilms.com) saw my press badge. He and I began to talk about his up-coming film Raven. A dirty blonde in fish-net stockings kept walking by. I was glad I taped Mr. Tripp's interview because the blonde was very distracting. She left before I could suck in my gut once more and try to interview her. Time was catching up with this aging journalist. I left and couldn't find my SUV in the parking lot. Luckily, I found it right where I left it, go figure. It had been five hours since I parked there. Damn if the skinny drunk wasn't still stomping on those chicken bones. Day two of Dragon*Con should be interesting.

Rusty White