About That Bag I Bought at the San Diego Comic-Con

Funny story. I went out into the lobby to unpack all the paper wadding from the new bag so I could put my own stuff inside it. (Clerk: “Do you want a bag for your bag?” Me: “This IS a bag for my bag!”) I knelt against a wall, as many other con-goers were doing, resting their tired feet, and commenced setting up housekeeping in the loverly new bag. A guy leaning against the wall nearby complimented me on my purchase, particularly on its lime green hue. I thanked him and said I’d been torn between the green one and the black one, but I figured there were a million black bags in the world, so I went for the more unusual one.

Well, all the con-walking must have gone to this guy’s head, because he began waxing philosophical about the dramatic effect this decision to go with the green instead of the black was going to have on my life. “Think about it,” he said, glancing at me, observing, no doubt, my extremely tame appearance—brown t-shirt, jeans, self-inflicted haircut—against the colorful Comic-Con backdrop of superheroes, pirates, and stormtroopers. “Until now, you’ve probably moved through life invisibly, escaping notice. But now it will all be different, now that you’ve made this leap into the Different by choosing the green bag—”

And I couldn’t help it: I burst out laughing. Buddy, I’ve got five kids. This is probably the only day of the year you’ll catch me alone. We travel in a pack. I can’t move through anywhere invisibly.

Actually, selective invisibility sounds like a pretty good superpower to me. Guess I’d have to leave the green bag at home, though.