Comic Con 1995: Mallrats

In 1995, the only film Kevin Smith had made was Clerks. So when word got around the San Diego Comic Con that there was going to be a free sneak preview of his new movie, the tickets got snapped up immediately. You might not be a huge fan of Mallrats, but that's probably because you haven't seen it in the right environment.

First: we saw it in a mall. It really helps a movie set in a mall if you have to wait in line in a mall for an hour first. Second: you know all that comic-book-geek stuff in Mallrats? Try seeing it in an audience full of hardcore comic book fans. Every one of the comic book references was received with hysterical laughter.

And third: If at all possible, see the movie while sitting two rows behind Stan Lee, who makes a cameo. If you start to get bored, you can lean over in your seat to see how Stan likes the movie.

These rules will guarantee you a good time. And man, you should have seen this crowd when Jay and Silent Bob showed up onscreen. Whoo!

After the movie, my friends and I weaseled our way into the Mallrats release party for some schmoozing. We got goody bags full of random stuff, including prepaid five-minute phone cards. That part will come into the story later. The live band was from the Mallrats soundtrack. That could have been cool, except that it was The Goops. Or, as they introduced themselves several times "The Motherfuckin' Goops". They weren't good, but at least they were loud. We worked the room, grabbing free snacks, handfuls of phone cards, and having entirely meaningless conversations with some celebrities I can't remember. I'm pretty sure I talked to Kevin Smith, though. So I've got that going for me.

We got tired of the party pretty quickly, largely because the Goops were much louder than seemed appropriate. Also, we had an appointment to play a game we called "Drunk Toon".

Okay, there's this role-playing game called "Toon", right? It's a mostly-freeform affair where the players take the part of cartoon characters. And we had something of a tradition of getting together one night each Comic Con, get wildly drunk, and play Toon. Well, I didn't drink, but everyone else did. This year, we held the game after-hours in an annex of the Hospitality Suite because one of us had contacts. Go to a convention enough times, and you can't really help it.

The Toon game is kind of a blur, even for those of us who didn't drink. Of which I think I'm the only one. I remember we had a password ("I'm a jukebox filled with dynamite!") and counterpassword ("I'm a kerosene-filled balloon!") to get in, even if we knew who was at the door. Especially if we knew who was at the door. The guy running the game, who I'll call "Marcus", even though his real name is "Leo", got extremely drunk. So very extremely drunk. Mostly on Goldschlager, which meant he had trouble even smelling cinnamon for a year. He ended up passed out in the bathroom on the second floor of the hotel, and you could hear his snoring in the lobby. Yes you could. Are you calling me a liar? Look, I was there, okay? He eventually regained consciousness and made it back to the hotel room around 9am, at which point he slept for something like twelve more hours. He didn't get drunk for some time after that.

The one who made the biggest fool of himself was Rotor. There's no real reason for me to use pseudonyms here, because everyone who was there knows who I'm talking about. But I think anecdotes sound cooler if wacky names are used. Besides, this way I hope he won't get mad at me if he sees this.

So anyway, Rotor got good and drunk. And then he decided he wanted to call Paco, who was this girl he really liked in Seattle. But he didn't have any money on him, and it was four in the morning or so. Luckily, we had all these five-minute phone cards sitting around. You can see where this is going, can't you?

Yup. He called her up, was nearly incoherent, and got cut off after five minutes. During the second phone card, he managed to tell her who was calling. I think he got through three or four cards before giving up. It wasn't pretty. But I followed the standard rule of being the only sober guy there: don't get in the way of drunk guys acting stupid.

After that, the evening pretty much ground to a halt. Everybody staggered back to their hotel rooms and fell asleep. Later, when Mallrats came out, I kept enthusing to everyone how great it was. It turns out that it's all about context, really.