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A Call To Arms, For Arms
 The REVISED Conventioneer's Guide to Life, Part 1

A Call To Arms, For Arms

I was going to write a clever little column, done in the florid style of Mickey Spillaine. It would be me investigating Steven Spielberg replacing the rifles and pistols in E.T. the Extraterrestrial with computer imagery. Instead of firearms, the police and agents are carrying radios. In my version, it doesn't help. Since cel phones cause cancer (and don't quibble - they do!) the radios turn out to be just as deadly to their users.

But then, something else has come up that makes the point even better. Point being, reducing the violence in films is pointless. Someone in Hollywood is trying to remake Walter Hill's movie The Warriors, and remove the guns from that film as well.

To understand how ridiculous this is, let me explain The Warriors to you who have probably not seen it. The film involves a street gang whose territory is Coney Island. They attend a conference of gang leaders. The head of the biggest gang points out that the gangs number 100,000 members, more than the New York Police Department, and they can take over the city. At that point he is shot to death. The Warriors are blamed for it. In some kind of ritual combat, the gangs make the Warriors run a gauntlet. They have to travel through the territory of the other gangs and try to survive, until they reach their home base.

The gangs are decorated in "colors" more obvious than different hats and head rags. One bunch wear old New York Yankees uniforms and Kiss makeup, and use baseball bats as their weapons. "The Lizzies" are a bunch of cliched lesbians. The toughest are called "The Orphans." Most of The Warriors die on this journey, although they pick up one member. And, as an incidental matter, there are about only three firearms in the original film.

The police don't matter in this film - they don't appear. Neither does much of the public. It's a city full of gang members, and one blind, black DJ running a bootleg radio station who does a running commentary of the battle, disguised as commentary on a baseball game.

Hill wrote and directed an unreal film. It contains so many distortions of truth that I could write for days and not count them all. (To take a minor one, no one can run an illegal radio station in New York. The city is so full of other signals, and has interference from so many big buildings, it's hard to hear full-power legal radio stations, let alone something cobbled together in a Harlem tenement.) But the important lie in the film, which makes it "romantic" to some, is that these gang members only kill one another. The Warriors claims that their violence does not hurt any innocents.

What a deadly, tragic lie.

And what a tragedy if a remake of The Warriors were to compound that mistake.

Winner of the Charlton Heston Reload Award for the Best Increase in Gun Use For a Remake

Anyone who watches the news or reads newspapers knows all too well about the cost of violence. Gangs don't stop to aim. Innocents often come under fire - and sometimes infants are those innocents. Even when the gang shoots straight, that accurate murder brings about cries for revenge from the other faction.

But it goes beyond gangs. Gang warfare parallels the violence in the Middle East. Israel and the surrounding Arab countries are a clear parallel to the world of The Warriors. Both cannot stop killing one another. Both become enraged at the deaths exacted by the other side. And both are fighting over the worst real estate in existence - the desert of the Middle East, and New York City. (Until the recent cooling in attitudes - which may not last - you could mention Northern and Southern Ireland as well.)

This violence is stupid, but what's more stupid is the desire of some supposedly intelligent people to romanticize it. Hill's original Warriors played the violence as a grisly but exciting game, with a tiny bit of tragedy for the protagonist as his friends die one by one. Hill didn't see the lesson, and the people slated to remake the film aren't smart enough to see it.

Hill did learn his lesson, sort of, in 1992 when he directed Trespass. That was the film with two white firemen and a black gang of criminals fighting each other through a deserted, crumbling factory over a treasure hidden within. Both gangs end up dead. The reason Hill "sort of" learned it is that he was back to the glorification of violence with his screenplay for Alien 3.

But this remake has a great opportunity to make a point, something that Hollywood hasn't done in ages. The message is a simple one, but has never been played out in gory detail. And the knuckle-dragging idiots who see films like this won't get the message in a sanitized film. The message is: love violence, and it will grow.

Instead of eliminating guns, make sure everyone in The Warriors has guns. They shouldn't be Uzis, plastic-body nine-millimeter jobs with silencers, or any kind of fetish gun for the drooling gun nuts. Make them conventional, six- or seven-shot, easily available Saturday Night Specials. Just as much death, for less than half the price.The action should be a running gun battle between the Warriors and the opponent gangs.

And don't set it in a fantasy, deserted New York. Put real individuals on the street amidst the gangs. Have many of the gang's bullets - those on both sides - end up in those civilians. Show old men, pretty young teenage girls, and even infants in baby carriages, being killed by incidental gunfire.

Show something more than the blood and makeup effects, too. Show the people who knew the victims speaking on the news, screaming their agony, showing their pain. Everyone who dies has some combination of these: a mother, father, friend or lover. Don't make those bodies anonymous props. Show the torture of the ones left behind, as this battle of egos and cordite spreads along the streets of Fun City.

Do not make the police absent from the film. You can, if you wish, show some of the officers trying to comfort the victims and their surviving relations. But show dumb cops, too. Show cops who try to intervene in the situation, thinking it's only a verbal argument, who end up dead. Show a city administration unable to cope with this running battle, which is not an underground thing talked about by a blind, black "underground" DJ. Show it being covered - at least in aftermath - by the news media, who seem just as full of bloodlust as the people doing the killing.

(As a tip of the hat to the previous film, I'd have the black DJ show up, but have him arrested by detectives and grilled about his gang activity. And when the decent, honest detectives can't get anything out of them, the DJ gets thrown to a "dirty cop" that beats the Jericurl off him. No one is immune to street violence. No one.)

You want surrealism? You want an ending that will shake the audience? Buckle your seat belt. The leader of the Warriors gets back to his home territory, which I think in the original film was that blasted, smelly repository of drug syringes called Coney Island. He meets his girlfriend, and breathes easy for a moment. According to gang law, his home territory is safe haven.

Then, one by one, ghosts materialize around him. At first, it's his other gang members. Then, it's the opposing members that were killed during the film - these people are identifiable, because we saw their corpses in close-up. Then the innocent victims. The people, all carrying the wounds that killed them, crowd around the gang leader and his girl. The girl doesn't see anything, but the gang leader sees it all. He is scared beyond belief. She can only stare at him as the panic rises in his eyes.

And then shots ring out. The leader of The Warriors and his girlfriend fall over dead, on a beach now deserted. The gun is wielded by one of the gang leaders with his pistol. He doesn't care about some archaic law about "safe haven." This is the real world. There is no safe haven. The camera pulls back on the dead bodies, and the killer walks away. Fade to black.

But don't end there. As the credits roll over black, the soundtrack plays radio reports of increased violence in the wake of the Warriors' battle. In a clever bit, have the reports exactly copy the movie violence most beloved by the critics. A teenager shoots people in a drive-in from the vantage point of the screen (Targets). A businessman terrorizes a fast-food restaurant, then blows up a building with a LAW rocket (Falling Down). Terrorists have seized an airport and, using false signals, are causing planes to crash (Die Hard 2). And then, the announcer says, "Wait a minute...put down that gun...don't..." and the radio soundtrack goes to static.

 The main parts of Part 1 (and a short outline):

• Why this advice isn't stupid!
• The necessary definitions
• Schedule your vacation time with your employer first.
• Buy your convention membership in advance.
• Reserve your hotel room right after getting your membership.
• If you're travelling with friends, make sure they are and will stay your friends.
• Car travel; service, then road-test.
• Air Travel: The Ugly Current Truths.
• Bus Travel: For the worst trip of your life.
• Know the territory.

Why this advice isn't stupid!

Some of you may have been to dozens of conventions of science fiction, fantasy, gaming or comic book interests. Some of you may have never been to a con, but would like to go. This information is the compiled knowledge and experiences of myself and my friends, after several years of going to conventions both local and distant. This document is numbered and dated because, as we find out more stuff, I will occasionally update what you read here. And it is not trademarked for financial or egotistical reasons, but so that some outsider can't put spurious information or lies into it. Check the trademark information at the end of the document.

While this information might be useful to someone attending a professional convention - say, the proceedings of the National Association of Broadcasters - it's aimed at genre conventions. That means conventions that are centered around specific types of entertainment; science fiction, fantasy gaming, Renaissance Fairs, comic book or collectible conventions.

Some of this information may seem like common sense, and therefore not worthwile. Understand this straight up; when you go to a convention, your common sense disappears. This is not an insult to you or to cons. It's human nature. Conventions are your time for fun. People always turn off their minds and their self-preservation instincts when they go somewhere for fun. This is the secret wedge that thieves, con men, rapists and others profit by.

I've learned something new with every con trip. You may take something away from this series of articles without going through the agony and expense I have suffered in previous incidents. But it will happen only if you read everything carefully.

The necessary definitions

For the uninitiated, here are some definitions. Con is short for convention. A person who goes to the convention is sometimes called a member, because going to a con is considered "joining" the organization in charge. This relates to the long-established fandom belief that everyone is a part of the event. Sometimes, the person is called by the cold and legalistic term attendee. I prefer to use the terms conventioneer or con-goer. In that communal spirit, you attend the convention by buying a membership, not an "admission."

The people who put on conventions we'll call organizers. These are the people who work to keep the organization running. At the end of this year's con, they start planning for the next one. Most of these people aren't paid, doing all this work for love, although at the biggest cons a few top-level people may earn their living from putting on cons. Volunteers are conventioneers who help out at the con, selling tickets and running security, but aren't involved in higher-level planning. They do this to get free or reduced-price admission.

Guests are people who are featured at the con; they may be celebrities in movies, TV or literature. While they attend the con for free, and in fact may be paid for attending, they are expected to work at the con, signing autographs or meeting and greeting fans. The biggest guests are often called guests of honor and their names are prominently featured. People who sell things at the con are called dealers.

Besides autograph sessions, where guests sign memorabilia like photos or their published works (sometimes for a fee), cons feature panels, which are free-flowing discussions of various issues in fandom. For instance, an author may discuss her latest book and take questions, or several guests might debate an issue like "sex in science fiction" (a popular topic for late-night panels, incidentally). There are also presentations, where the guest does all the talking and the crowd watches. Video rooms are darkened rooms where you can see videotapes of fantasy and science fiction films, anime (Japanese animation) or even fan-made movies-on-video.

Some cons provide con suites for the conventioneerss, where they provide snacks and drinks cheaply or even free, while the guests and guests of honor go to an exclusive VIP suite or green room where they can get away from the conventioneers for a while. Finally, the dealer room (sometimes called the "huckster room" by more cynical cons) is where dealers purchase booth space where they sell their stuff - comic books, rare collectibles, videotapes and the like.

Now that we know what we're talking about, let's talk about how you start your con experience.

Schedule your vacation time with your employer first.

First and foremost, set up your vacation time with your employer. Unless you're planning a quick in-and-out to see one celebrity at a local con - in other words, if you want to go to a con and not have fun - you should stay all day, at least one day. The most agonized people at cons are those who "only want to go half a day." They are the ones rushing around, agonizing over everything they've missed (or will miss) and frantic to finish up so they can get back to work. This is a tragedy. A convention is your fun time. Make it completely yours.

One friend of mine scheduled his vacation time, then his boss went back on his word and cancelled his vacation. Now, his boss had worked him like a mule, my friend was already looking for another job and he was a professional in demand, so he quit his job flat-out to go to the con. I'm not recommending this, but this is the level of seriousness with which you should plan a convention.

If you are flying out of town, schedule one day before the convention and one day after you return home. Conventions take a lot out of you, emotionally and physically. You will need the day before to prepare and pack, and the day after the con to recover and regroup.This also protects you in case your airline seat gets "bumped" or you "bump yourself" (which we'll talk about in a later installment).

Buy your convention membership in advance.

Most cons offer discounts for advance registration. This gives the organizers hard cash to pay some of their expenses without going into debt. For advance registration, some cons offer benefits like advance program books to let you plan your convention time at home, or pre-registration for special events. But even the prospect of saving a few bucks makes pre-registration worthwile.

What's amazing is that few people buy advance admissions, and they should. Far too many people decide to go to a con a week or two before. This indecision or inability to plan their lives (call it what you will) makes these poor souls spend money they don't need to spend. It also means they get locked out of special events and may not even find hotel rooms. Don't be like that. Buy your membership as soon as possible.

You can buy admission to some cons at other cons; small local cons will sometimes have representatives from big cons selling discount memberships. Most likely, though, you will contact the con via their web site, mailing address or phone number. You can sometimes find these in flyers distributed through comic book or hobby shops, or through ads in magazines.

While the biggest cons take credit cards (and may even sell tickets online or through companies like Ticketmaster) I recommend you pay by money order, purchased through the Post Office or a convenience store. I advise against personal checks, since they take time to clear. Although it costs more, mail the money order and your personal information via Registered Mail with a Return Receipt mailed to you. This will cost you about $4.00 at the post office, but it is a guarantee that the convention got the money and their officials received it. Keep the money order receipt and Return Receipt and take it with you to the con. In the event the convention loses your pre-registration (it happens more often than it should) the receipts prove that you paid. This common-sense precaution is ignored too much of the time.

Some conventions sell "eternal memberships" to people who always want to go to the con. If you like a con, and can see going back to it for the rest of your life, it's a good idea. Sometimes, these can be transferred in a year when the eternal member can't go. My first Dragon*Con was a gift from an eternal member who couldn't go one year. If you are a member of a science fiction club, ask if someone has a convention admission they aren't going to use. You will have to carry a letter to the convention, signed (and maybe notarized) by the member and containing the membership number.

It may still be possible, as late as three months before the con, to get discounted or free admission by becoming a volunteer in some fashion. For instance, if you run role playing games, you may get free admission at many cons for running five four-hour gaming sessions. (Get the specific volunteer deal from the gaming manager of the convention - right now - through the con's web site or phone number.) Or you might have to sell tickets, escort guests or be a gofer (where you "gofer coffee, gofer copies," and the like).

Be aware that the largest conventions often require volunteers to attend meetings throughout the year. As cons grow more complex, volunteers are expected to know the con's established procedures for financial dealings, security, computer services and the like. That means the choice volunteer jobs go to people who live within driving distance of the con. Still, contact the convention and see what's available.

It may be needless to say, but we live in an era of egotism and indifference. So, for the record, do not try to "cheat" a convention by promising volunteer services and then slacking off. Convention organizers have long memories, especially when things go wrong and people don't help out. And they talk to other cons, so one really bad black mark can get you banned all over the place.

Reserve your hotel room right after getting your membership.

Even if your con is local, you may want to stay at the convention's hotel. This makes a small in-town convention more like a full vacation. It's nice to step out of bed and walk to your first event of the day without fighting traffic. If you get tired, you can flop down for a short nap. And for single people, it's nice to entertain that exotic Vampire player or that entertaining person you met a short stroll from the con.

Many cons have "official hotels" where most of the events are held. The con has to fill these rooms to pay for their meeting rooms - this is called "filling the room block" in hotel lingo. But as a side benefit, many cons negotiate good hotel rates, far below the walk-in price or "rack rate" for the room.You may be able to fit up to four adults in a room for a fixed price. (But be aware that you might not get additional rollaway beds for those extra adults UNLESS you reserve in advance. And depending on your financial state and your tolerance for other people, you may or may not want to share a room.)

The biggest cons fill their room blocks early; the convenience of staying in the same hotel as the main events is paramount to these attendees. The cons also usually arrange special rates at nearby "overflow" hotels. At the most crowded convention in my experience - GEN CON in Milwaukee - I have often had to stay in college dorm rooms, often without air conditioning and 45 minutes away from the con by city bus. At least the dorm rooms were closer than the time I had to drive five miles each day from my hotel room at the airport.

To get the best available rooms, reserve that hotel room as soon as you have your vacation time approved. You will need to use a credit card to hold most rooms. Especially with smaller cons, call the hotel directly (not the hotel chain's national 1-800 reservation service), speak to the reservation desk, and say you want the special rate for the convention. The national services don't know about the special deal worked out with the hotel; the hotel's own convention desk does.

At least one convention I know (the GEN CON Game Fair in Milwaukee) only books its hotels through the Milwaukee Convention Center, because hotel space is so limited. You must fax your hotel request the second you get the hotel information, and you must rank your hotels by preference; there is no guarantee that you'll get to stay where you want. (This is the con where I've stayed at a hot, sweaty college dorm.) If your con has that kind of overcrowded situation, all you can do is hold your nose, fax in your form and pray.

If you're flying to the con, find out if the hotel offers a free or low-cost shuttle between your hotel and the airport. If not, you might have to rent a "shuttle limo" or a cab to get to the hotel. You might also consider renting a car - although if you're at the con all day, that's a waste of money.

If you're travelling with friends, make sure they are and will stay your friends.

Going to cons with your friends is a time-honored way to share the experience and reduce individual expenses. Unfortunately, arguments and problems are also time-honored. If you are planning to travel to the con with other people, and especially if you plan to share your room with them, get firm financial commitments (and if possible, cash) from your roommates before the con. I have been stuck three times by people who promised to pay, and didn't. A gent I'll call Freddy the Freeloader paid his promised share of the room - six months after the con, and only in installment payments and after being threatened by legal action.

Freddy was my education in con roommate problems. Freddy wheedled his way to the con, promising to help my gaming group. He didn't. He did his own thing most of the time. He snored loudly. (I had to buy earplugs.) He complained that he needed to ride from the hotel to the convention (four or five blocks worth of walking), and that I somehow had to pay for it. (I may be overweight, but he was morbidly obese, and his laziness suggested why.) He begged for money for meals and snacks. The person who was his ride home ditched him at the convention. It fell to me to give him a ride back, and I had to endure more of his poor company on the agonizing nine-hour trip back home.

Saying that Freddy the Freeloader is no longer my friend - or anyone else's - is obvious. But if I had checked him out earlier, and not relied on someone else's estimation of his character, I would have known better. Before you invite anyone along, know them well, and discuss all priorities and procedures with your roommates. That includes what items you're bringing, car rental or sharing, sleeping arrangements, wakeup times, what happens if someone wants privacy with a date and the like. And get the money in advance if at all possible, or make the other guy use his charge card on the room and pay him in cash in advance.

Car travel; service, then road-test.

If you're within driving distance of the con, and it's not in your home town, get your car serviced way in advance of your departure, and run it around town a bit. One year, I discovered that a serviceman's work had left me with a cracked engine block. I discovered it 500 miles from home, and had to drag my dead car home with a rented truck. Get your oil change, tune up and radiator flush before the con, but run your car for a full hour at highway speeds to make sure your engine isn't overheating.

Air Travel: The Ugly Current Truths.

If you must fly to conventions, things have changed. Surprise, surprise.

Standby fares and last-minute fares don't exist any more, for all practical purposes. The worst thing you can do is try to purchase last-minute fares with cash; planes have been held and stopped by the FBI, since this is an obvious hijacker's ploy.

You are still better off to purchase your flights about two months in advance. This is close enough that you stand a chance of finding a bargain, and far enough away that you'll be sure of getting your tickets.

The airlines used to promote "E-tickets" which were "ticketless." If you have one of these, to board your flight you will have to stop at the counter, get a copy of the ticket and then go to the gate. This makes no sense. Buy a regular printed ticket, have it mailed to you, and take it with you to the airport.

If you feel you need to rent a car, set it up in advance. At most cons, you can get along without a car just fine. But if you want to see the town, run to the Sam's Club ten miles away to stock up on cheap soda, or if you've agreed to ferry friends to different hotels, you'll want to reserve your rent-a-car when you make your plane reservation. Instead of taking the airline's "preferred" company, you might get a better deal with another company. Use the car rental web sites and free 1-800 numbers to find out if they have counters at the airport, or if they have shuttle service between the airport and their off-site car lot.

Bus Travel: For the worst trip of your life.

Apologies in advance to Greyhound, Trailways and any other bus firms out there, but bus travel just plain sucks. You are seated, cheek-to-jowel, with people who you don't know and probably don't want to know. You have stops and starts at every little burg on the Interstate. On long trips, if you get meal breaks, you will be limited to the places near the terminal, usually the worst spots in town. The driver may recommend restaurants, and guess who gets a kickback for the recommendation, and guess how you'll feel jostling around on the bus after your meal?

Yes, you get to see the country. You get to see the parts of America that America doesn't brag about, and for good reason. And you get to see it for a long time; my longest bus trip, from St. Louis to Roswell, New Mexico, was two days and nights of agony. A flight, even by a little Buddy Holly Killing Puddle Jumping Prop Plane, would have been half a day at worst.

My last bus trip, seated next to a dope-smoking would-be evangelist - who was physically pulled off the bus by the driver when he lit up - cured me. You may not have a choice about taking a bus, if you live in a small town. If you have to hold your nose and tolerate bus travel, pray for a nearly empty bus, bring a blindfold and earplugs (more about this later) and carry Pepto-Bismol on board.

Know the territory.

If you are going so far as to rent a car in a strange city, buy a travel guide. These "tourist guides" will give you information that I've had to find out the hard way - the phone numbers for hotels where my friends were staying, the main downtown streets, special events and attractions, car rental numbers, what's available at hotels, and good (and cheap) places to eat. AAA members can get city or regional guides for free or reduced prices; the rest of us can find "dollar-wise" guides at good bookstores. If you go back to the same city every year, you can probably use the guide two or three years in a row.

With these steps taken care of, you now have time to learn the role playing module you're preparing to run for people, or prepare the schedule of events in which you'll participate, or prepare the costume with which you'll dazzle the crowds.

Next time, we'll cover what to take to the convention - clothes, equipment and special items, and how to pack them.

The legal stuff: This document is Trademark 2001 by Thomas E. Reed. Permission is granted to distribute this document by any means, provided that the document is not altered or edited in any way, and that the entire document is distributed, including this copyright notice.

All opinions, evaluations and descriptions of persons, places and commercial entities expressed herein are those of Thomas E. Reed, and do not reflect the official positions of any other entity. Use this information at your own risk and discretion. No warranty or guarantee is expressed or implied by this information. This information is as complete and as thorough as possible at the date of publication.

The author welcomes suggestions, comments and other information concerning this document, or individuals' general experiences at genre conventions for inclusion in future versions of this document. Contributions should be generic in nature (i.e. not relating to a specific convention or entity) and should offer helpful advice about convention attendance in general. Contributions to this document will be accepted at the discretion of Thomas E. Reed, and may be edited for clarity or length. Comments and contributions accepted for publication in future versions will include the contributor's name (if desired). Send contributions or comments via e-mail to the author at hatemail@off-model.com for information.

Original material Copyright (C) Thomas E. Reed. Publication in any media or use by another web site is expressly prohibited without written permission of Thomas E. Reed. Opinions are those of the writer and correspondents, and do not reflect the views of TOON Magazine or any other entity.
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