Convention Journal: Part 2

Droves of people walked out of the convention. It’s chaotic to cross the street and there’s people trying to give away free stuff; we always replied, “Trying to quit,” as a way of saying no thanks. We approached a sidewalk and we’re stopped by two guys who clearly aren’t there for Comic Con.

“Oh shit! You’re from Naruto!” one of them exclaimed to Eric. “You’re . . . uh . . . .” he trailed off trying to remember the name of the character.

“Pein!” Eric informed him.

“Yeah! Dude, let me take a picture with you! Fuckin awesome!” The guy pulled out his cellphone and handed it to his friend. “Let’s do a pose — like you’re beating me up!”

Eric, Robert, and I chuckled at the guy’s request — mostly because he looks like a hardcore body builder, yet is acting like an excited kid more fit in the convention than coming from a jog around Downtown. Eric stood next to the guy and posed as if he’s shooting a fireball at the guy, who reacted by throwing himself halfway into the street as if he was hit. The guy’s friend quickly snapped the picture.

“Thanks a lot, man!” the guy beamed, grateful.

“Yeah, that was fun! Not a lot want to do a cool pose like that,” replied Eric.

The three of us continued down the sidewalk and passed by a bar. A drunk man at the front spoke up to Eric.

“Hey, you’re from that anime . . . Narodo or something,” he slurs.

“Naruto!” Eric corrected him.

“Yeah, man. Hey, are you old enough to drink?”

Eric smiled, oblivious that the drunk is coming on to him. I felt it was my time to interject.

“Nah, man, we’re all 13.”

The drunk gave us a bewildered look while we continued walking. Heroic music from an old-school Japanese martial art flick began to play as the sun went down over the horizon. We’re paused in mid-stride and the credits begin to roll.