The Gang Gets Blacklisted From a Con

Over the past few years, I've joked that I've been blacklisted from a convention. And, well, it's a hundred percent true. I was officially blacklisted from Rhode Island Comic Con after our 2014 coverage. 

Apologies if this meanders a bit, and if a few things get jumbled in the timeline. I'm recalling from memory about an event where I was literally reporting while feverish. (lol)

Rhode Island, for many years, had nothing close to a geek convention. We had events in Massachusetts (Boston Comic Con, Anime Boston, etc.) and Connecticut (ConnectiCon, TERTerrificon, etc.). But, due to the size of the state and general lack of facilities for a major fan event, it never happened. 

Yeah, we have the RI Convention Center, but it's pitifully small, with just 2/3 the floor space of the Hynes in Boston. The center, at maximum, holds 17,000 people.

Still, in 2012, RI Comic Con dared to do just that. With a slate of guests like John DeLancie and Peter Mayhew, the event quickly sold out. As with any first-year con, there were growing pains. The content offerings were light, panels filled up quickly, and the quarters quickly started to feel tight as people swarmed into the convention center.

Still, there was a lot of hope, and the groundwork was lain for a successful repeating event. When the convention returned in 2013, there were a slate of improvements in operation, and everything felt as if it was moving in the right direction. Fans were happy, events were more organized on the whole, and the programming event was filling out rather nicely.

Then came 2014.

To be honest, I was actually at home with the flu the weekend of Rhode Island Comic Con 2014. I was planning to skip the event because, well, what kind of jerk goes to a con with the flu?!

Still, in the morning hours of the morning of November 1, 2014, a close friend of mine texted me, and told me to get my ass down to the RI Convention Center. I asked why, and he responded with "You just need to get down here to see this. People aren't being allowed to leave. If they leave, they can't come back in."

Yeah. That got my attention. I texted a bunch of friends who were at the event to keep me posted on developments. They were super happy to oblige.

I hastily threw some clothes on, and got into my car, silently cursing the (relatively) chilly temperatures as I drove down to Providence, elder brother in tow (Seriously, I'm not going to be driving with the flu on my own - I'm crazy, not stupid). After finding a place to park at the mall, I trudged down to the convention center.

That's when I saw it. A line, which snaked around the RI Convention Center, down the street... it was not moving. People were standing in the freezing cold, clad in T-shirts, light costumes. Folks were shivering, they were miserable, they were pissed.

I talked to a few people in the line, and they all told the same story. "We're not sure what's going on, but we haven't moved in a while." 

Some were nicer than others, but I'll never forget the burly guy who just bellowed "The line hasn't moved in a fuckin' hour!" in a thick, Rhode Island accent.

On the inside, I was receiving calls from my friends, who were reporting that conditions were cramped, and that people were miserable.  

As I talked, I had heard (and confirmed) that the fire marshal had basically put the kibosh on anyone entering the event, due to it being over capacity. 

Now, before we go further, I want to let you know that fire marshals don't fuck around here. In 2003, Rhode Island was host to the fourth-largest night club fire in history, when The Station burned to the ground. 100 died, 230 were injured. It was a tragedy that's still felt in the area... and our fire marshals are dedicated to making sure it never happens again.

Now where was I? Oh, right!

Then I saw this guy.

At that point, I knew I just had to act.

I hurried home, made some coffee, and bundled up in blankets on my bed with my laptop. I started to stalk the social media channels, pulling up tales of people who were genuinely upset, nay, angry about the circus that was unfolding just twenty minutes away. For every leads, I pestered my friends over the weekend, looking for corroboration.

My good friends... I put them through annoyance hell that weekend! (Sorry, guys!)

The anger just seemed to grow and boil, reaching a fever pitch when people saw that RI Comic Con was still actively selling tickets, even after the Fire Marshall had capped attendance. The event's social media channels were proudly proclaiming that they weren't oversold, despite the shit show I had seen just a few minutes outside my front door.

Through the weekend, I would continue to skulk through the convention's social media pages, pulling comments and responses, while stalking through the greater social media for reactions. I corroborated reports with my friends on the scene, who were investigating stories of vendors barred from returning to their booths, families split up by the cap, and people being forced to wait for hours in the freezing rain.

Honestly, I think I should have stopped at 7:00PM on the Saturday, when everything went hazy and I started heaving the contents of my lunch out into the porcelain throne... 

I kind of blacked out for a few moments, there.

But, honestly, I just couldn't stop. I had to keep telling this story, keep preserving the tale for those who were looking for answers.

It wouldn't be until November 3, that RI Comic Con released an official statement regarding the weekend. November 6, they'd finally issue an apology.

And, when they were issued, I made sure to include these items in our coverage. We tracked and updated every movement in the aftermath, building upon the coverage, while bolstering our coverage and commentary.

What shocked me was that, as the entire situation went on, people who were at the con, who worked the con all started chiming in on the comments, basically saying "This is exactly how it happened." I can't tell you how awesome that feels in the moment.

The entire experience, from the chaotic weekend to its conclusion, lasted until November 21. I had carefully, nay, meticulously reported on the event, taking every precaution to ensure that my tellings were accurate. I corroborated stories among no fewer than thirty people who were at the event, and was able to present a compelling, fact-based take on the weekend's chaos. (Again, sorry people I pestered!)

The piece was picked up by a few outlets in the area, including GoLocalProv and (if I remember right? It's been a while) The Providence Journal or WPRI.

I’m not going to go into details on the aftermath because, well… I’m not here to air dirty laundry.  (A bit of free advice, here - never burn your bridges.)

But, needless to say, one thing led to another, which led to all contact from the convention just dying out. I was officially blacklisted.

Still, I stand by that piece - it's one that I'm proudest of, and something that I would eagerly do again given the opportunity.