There’s a big scary virus making its way across every news channel and website. What was once an “Oh those poor foreign people” issue is now so bad that a lot of our agency clients have informed us that they’d prefer we keep our dirty Chicago germs in Chicago.
It’s hard to talk to kids about a potential global pandemic. Especially when your wife is stockpiling medical masks and seriously reconsidering her stance on guns. You know, for the zombies. We told them right now everyone is safe. The virus isn’t bad for kids and the best way to stay healthy is to wash your hands every thirty-eight seconds until they are raw.
It was in this shaky, opening of a George A. Romero movie atmosphere that Elijah and I decided to attend the big Chicago comic book convention. Luca was busy catching other diseases at an overnight water park birthday extravaganza.
I almost canceled our trip downtown, but my friends made a tiny bit of fun at my suggestion. I chose to put my son in danger rather than not look 100% cool 100% of the time.
We arrived at the convention with my brother and his crew and I stopped all the kids before heading in. I said, “Safety meeting. There are some germs out there that we don’t want. So let’s all be careful out there.” There. That should be enough.
We found ourselves in a line before the other line before the line to get in. Hundreds and hundreds of nerds (myself included) shuffling around, all thinking the same thing: “Did someone just cough?”
Eventually, we made it into the hall. It was appropriately hilarious and awesome and sad and we had a blast. My virus fears were abated by a gigantic IPA in a plastic cup. Eli knew exactly when to ask for a $50 souvenir (at the beginning of my second IPA) and I barely resisted the urge to buy an obscenely expensive Superman sweater.
I’m fairly sure we made it out with our insides unscathed by the super bug. My insides did take a bit of a beating from IPAs and convention snacks.
No comments:
Post a Comment