Show at the Dive Bar

Tom Hall and I were invited to do a small comic book show on Long Island, to benefit the Boy Scouts. Sounded like a good deal.

When we pulled up after a brief accidental tour of Brooklyn, our directions had led us to a little bar off the beaten path, sandwiched between a condemned building, a Chinese deli, a European bakery and a cemetary. The front door was locked. Around back, behind a dumpster and through a half-open door, was the 'show'.

There was no sign advertising it out front, no sign on the door. There were maybe sixteen tables. If there there a hundred mainstream comic books in the room I'd be surprised. Yes, I said a hundred comics, NOT boxes, NOT dealers, NOT titles, a hundred comics period falling out of some flat-laying dollar boxes. There was a knife dealer, a bootleg video dealer and a guy whose table included burned copies of garage band CD's and jumper cables. There was a table represented by the Libertarian Party supporting Ron Paul.

The rest of the tables were filled with artists who had been convinced at the Big Apple Con that this would somehow not be a waste of our time.

What can you do but try to make the most of it? The good thing was that I got to spend a day drawing pictures and talking with my best friend. The only customers that anyone had all day were basically the other vendors that had nothing to do but look around. Since it was slow (deader than the cemetary across the street) the artists all spent time getting to know each other and making contacts. I did some sketches at request and we sold (and gave away) a few Megazeens and KING!s to people that will surely read and appreciate them.

I suppose this is what rock bands talk about when they start out at dive bars with an audience of four people. I wanna know, how long do we pay our dues before we play the Garden?