The older I get, the easier it is to shrug off Comic Con.

It’s objectively a huge, overwhelming room full of sweaty people lined up for brand activations, bad hot dogs and throwing money at overpriced toys with some comic book artists unceremoniously shoved in a corner. A corporate shell of what it once was, a way for companies to fleece the largest niche.

But it’s also full of pure, artistic joy - and exactly what I needed this year.

I’ve been going to Comic Con since I was a kid, and maybe only missed a year or two since. Since then I’ve hosted panels and podcasts, screened professional work and seen TV shows I’ve written for receive their premieres.

At this point, it’s a pilgrimage.

When I was younger, SDCC still had its weirdness intact. You could see a Klingon wedding in the morning, meet Ray Harryhausen in the afternoon and excitedly share an escalator with Dwayne McDuffie in between.

I was fully taken by the possibility of seeing my favorite show creators talk in person about the creative process. It was like a DVD commentary, but LIVE! And it was inspiring. It’s part of why I ended up in animation as a career.

As a longtime Batman: The Animated Series fan, I once sat through an entire Bones panel simply to snag a seat early to catch a sneak peek of a new episode of Justice League Unlimited in the same room afterwards.

I don’t care about Bones. Does anybody care about Bones? What do Bones fans call themselves? Boneheads? Boners? Bone-a-fides? I dunno, but I sat through an hour of Bones just to get to the Not Bones and I still can’t tell you a single thing about Bones.

San Diego Comic Con was also where I fell in love with Guillermo del Toro. Seeing his real-life friendship onstage with Ron Perlman at early Hellboy movie panels inspired co-creating my stop-mo series Friendship All-Stars.

The man was full of energy, threw the word fuck around a fuckton, and championed the kind of art I was into with enthusiasm and reverence.

Comics, animation, toys. It deserved to be celebrated.

Because let’s be honest - that was the other reason I went to Comic Con: to snag the coveted exclusives. Palisades Muppet action figures like Invisible Spray Fozzie. Variants that were cheaper for toy companies to produce but could be priced higher at a convention. Capitalism got its hooks in me early.

So like most things in life, what started as outsider art became the mainstream. And now, what’s old is new, repackaged as nostalgia so you spend your money chasing the feeling it all gave you once upon a time.

And as the years went by… I started to write it all off. I never had a bad time, but watching Comic Con explode into the advertising monster it is today, well it’s hard not to be cynical. So this year I went in with a shrug. What’ll this be?

Turns out it was everything I needed. As most artistic industries are carved out by mega-mergers and genAI garbage, it’s hard to feel inspired - let only safe or stable in a creative field when you actually want to make things.

But Comic Con unearthed my inner child’s enthusiasm. I was pumped to watch the Season 2 premiere of Caped Crusader before release, and in the process was introduced to a new writer who got me genuinely excited to dive into more Batman. A tall order when I’ve seen approx. 1 billion things Batman!

I went to a Muppet fan meetup outside the Hilton as research for an upcoming project with my buddy Ben and we met some of the most kind and affirming strangers on the face of the planet. A wholesome smattering of delightful weirdos who remind you the world isn’t as hateful as it appears online. I walked away with a homemade friendship bracelet, given to me like a Fraggle might gift you a shiny stone in A Muppet Family Christmas.

I ended SDCC with another full circle moment. The Pan’s Labyrinth 20th Anniversary Panel. And as I walked in to hear Guillermo del Toro emphatically champion the necessity of human made art in the face of fascism, in committing to your own beautiful and weird ideas, I realized this must be what it’s like to go to church. The man was proselytizing my kinda shit.

And it was healing.

I’m so grateful I went back this year. I’m heartened to be one of the many sweaty dorks roaming the convention floor. Despite the stereotypes we see of the argumentative, antisocial nerd or the obsessive, entitled fan, the people there showed me that community and acceptance are alive and well.

I connected with artists, friends and acquaintances, old and new. I saw dogs dressed up like Star Wars characters. I managed to avoid eating a bad hot dog and instead ate good tacos. Twice!!

Like going to a protest instead of doom scrolling social media, getting out into the world is much more affirming than staying inside.

Everybody’s going through it, but it’s heartening to commiserate with people who share your values. People who are all proudly there to unironically love the things they love. And often, express it with their very human-made art.

That’s well worth the trip. I’ll be back.

NEXT TIME: The Pitching Trap (for real this time)