I wound up bailing out of the convention around 1 p.m. today. It’s not a matter of boredom of the convention so much as I just wanted to go home. My backpack was getting heavier as I bought water bottles and a trade paperback. I kept waiting on sketches. I had to hit the ATM beforehand, and I didn’t want to spend any more money than I needed. If I was staying at the hotel tonight, I would’ve stayed as long as I could hold out. But with a few hundred miles between me and home, I had to leave as soon as I could.
The ride was a mixed bag. At one point, I pulled over at a rest stop for gas, and I couldn’t find my credit card. That’s a scary moment, isn’t it? I wound up having to use my debit card. When I got home, I emptied all my bags, searching every nook and cranny I could find, but it wasn’t anywhere. I called the hotel, thinking that I could’ve left it in my room. You want to know where I found it? In my wallet, wedged into a different section. It was a small miracle, akin to the Jets winning this afternoon.
In total, I got twelve sketches; nine in my sketchbook, and three on blank-covered comics. I also walked 7,648 steps total. I wasn’t in “wandering dead” mode, but I did feel my batteries draining. Worst part was when I got up from killing time, started walking . . . then had to stop because my leg had fallen asleep. I had to stand there and wait until the tingling stopped.
Despite the fatigue, I had fun. Baltimore is a fun city to visit, though – once again – I’m not sure if I’ll be coming back for their convention. My next big adventure happens next month, when I’ll be attending the New York Comic Con, which is a stone’s throw away from my home borough of Staten Island. It’s four days long, but I’m certain that it won’t kill me.