I’ve just arrived home from the ninth year of San Diego Comic Con. Nine years of lines. Nine years of panels. Nine years of hot dogs that cost about the same as college textbooks. But, most importantly, it’s nine years of passion. Every person who attends Comic-Con is passionate about something, something that elicits joy, awe, or maybe even hatred (*cough* Zack Snyder *cough*). Those who know me know that I’m a bit too excited about films, so Comic-Con is like a welcome base, filled with rebel weirdos who feel the same crazy amount of excitement about comic book films I do.
But, this post isn’t about the essence of Comic-Con, that’s for another time. This is about something far more insane.
This is about the time I stood inches away from Brad Bird.
It was Friday morning. Waking up feeling like I had hit the snooze one too many times, I got ready to head down to the convention exhibit hall at about 9:00 AM. I made my way through the sea of body odor, Harley Quinns, and Pokémon Go users to get in the line for Mondo to snag these incredible posters from Mike Mitchell (@sirmitchell), when I found out I needed to get in line at 11:30 AM. This was terrific because there was a panel starting at 10 AM that I wanted to see called “The Giant’s Dream: Documentary Screening & Chat with Brad Bird.”
The Iron Giant is my favorite film. It’s a perfect story. The film’s resounding message “You are who you choose to be,” is one of passion, love, and above all, hope. I’ve watched this film approximately 17,000 times - it never fails to fill me with goosebumps and tears.
9:45 hits and I started to wonder if I could make it to the screening. I raced up the stairs, looked for the room, found it, and made my way to the door. I realized there were two gentlemen I was going to run into if I didn’t slow down. So I slowed down and turned to let the two men go before me. To my shock and awe, I saw Michael Giacchino, the best film composer of this generation of filmmakers. I’ve met Michael Giacchino a couple times. Each time he’s happy to speak with his fans, and always kinder than he needs to be. I started to speak with him.
Then I looked a little further left, and my stomach dropped through the floor.
I’ve worked at a few film festivals and a podcast where I worked directly with celebrities, so I don’t usually get starstruck. This was different.
There, standing less than a foot away from me, was the author of my childhood. I’m not someone who has trouble speaking my mind or being too quiet (in fact, the opposite is true in most situations).
Brad Bird.
I couldn’t speak.
Brad Bird stood less than 12 inches from me, and suddenly I was a nine-year-old boy who just found a giant metal robot. I had about 3 hours worth of things to say to him, and I couldn’t put together 3 words.
A few seconds later, a couple fans ran up to him and started asking for his autograph, the last thing on my mind. So, I turned to Michael Giacchino, thanked him for his incredible work, and made my way to my seat. As Giacchino and Bird made their way to their seats (2 rows in front of me), I thought about what had just happened. Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life? Did I miss out on telling him everything I needed to tell him?
Then I remembered why I was at Comic-Con. Why everyone is at Comic-Con. We all came because we’re excited about something, something that elicits emotions from us. In that moment, I said everything I needed to say. The silence meant more to me than a handshake or a picture or an autograph. The feeling of pure awe and pure joy said more about his work than any amount of hours spent gushing over it could.
As the panel ended and we dispersed, I made my way back down to the exhibit hall. I met up with my friend who had waited in line for me at the Mondo booth (yes, I got the posters). I went on with Comic-Con as usual. Too many things about this year's Comic-Con are already disappearing memories. But the pure joy of seeing Brad Bird? That’ll stick around for quite some time.
