Twenty years ago, I walked into Anime Expo with no plan, no convention experience, and apparently no understanding that there was anything to do besides wander around the Exhibit Hall.
It was not exactly an auspicious beginning.
In a recent post, I mentioned skipping Anime Expo after a lengthy streak of consecutive attendance, in favor of a couple of bucket-list experiences. While that streak came with a lot of great memories, it is only one chapter of my convention story.
I’ve been attending conventions for more than 20 years now, and at this point I’ve honestly lost track of how many I’ve been to. Somewhere in the 50 to 60 range seems about right. In that time I’ve experienced everything from small local conventions to massive events like San Diego Comic-Con.
Anime Expo and Anime Los Angeles make up the bulk of those memories, but there have been outliers such as Sakura-Con 2015, my first out-of-state convention, with Dragon Con in just over a month set to become my second.
So let’s rewind to July 2005: Anime Expo 2005.
My very first convention.
Yes, I know what you’re thinking.
“Anime Expo? As your first convention?”
Bold strategy, Cotton. Let’s see if it pays off.
(Narrator: It did not.)
AX in 2005 was not the giant, increasingly industry-driven convention it is today. It was still large, but it felt more manageable, less crowded, and a lot less intimidating.
I was getting back into anime after a brief hiatus and decided, completely on a whim, to see what this “anime convention” thing was all about.
To say it did not go well would be an understatement.
Not because Anime Expo failed me.
Because I failed Anime Expo.
I somehow spent almost my entire day wandering the Exhibit Hall and left thinking, “Huh, I guess that’s what conventions are? I’m not impressed”
Panels? Didn’t know they existed.
Screenings? Missed them.
Events? What events?
Gatherings? Those were a thing?
I basically walked around looking at DVDs, figures, and wall scrolls for a few hours before heading home, blissfully unaware that I’d experienced maybe ten percent of what Anime Expo actually had to offer.
In fairness to 2005 me, I was still rediscovering anime and didn’t know anyone else who was into it. Nobody had shown me how conventions worked, and I didn’t even know I was supposed to look at the schedule.
Fast forward to today, and I have spreadsheets. Okay, maybe not spreadsheets. I do have cosplay lineups that somehow change every time I open my suitcase, restaurant ideas, backup plans, and backup plans for the backup plans because convention gremlin brain is very real.
Needless to say, I’ve come a long way. When I returned in 2007, everything clicked.I had friends to go with, I was fully back into anime, and I finally understood that conventions were not giant shopping malls with cosplay.
They were communities.
That weekend was the one that hooked me.
Technically, Anime Expo 2005 was my first convention, but I’ve always thought of 2007 as the beginning of my real convention journey. It was the first time I experienced what makes conventions special: thousands of people gathering to celebrate the same hobby in completely different ways.
Some people came for cosplay.
Others came for panels.
Some never left the game room.
Others spent half the weekend in line for autographs.
And to this day, far too many people still treat hygiene as an optional side quest.
Nobody enjoyed conventions exactly the same way, and that was part of the fun.
For the first few years, Anime Expo was home base.
Eventually, though, curiosity got the better of me.
One of the biggest perks of living in Southern California is that there is almost always another convention, anime event, or festival happening somewhere. Once I started exploring beyond AX, I realized every convention had its own personality.
Anime Los Angeles quickly became one of my favorites.Compared with AX, ALA felt more relaxed and community-focused. You would constantly run into familiar faces, conversations lasted longer than a passing wave in a hallway, and the pace made it easier to simply enjoy being there.
Over the years, I watched ALA grow, move venues, and develop its own identity. Somewhere along the way I even found myself joining the staff, something that would have completely blown 2005 me’s mind.
That probably says everything about how much conventions had become part of my life.
The smaller conventions and events became just as enjoyable for a different reason.
Without massive crowds everywhere, there was more time to discover random panels, appreciate everyone’s cosplay without being swept away by human traffic, and simply enjoy the weekend without feeling like you were speedrunning it.
The way I attended conventions evolved too.
At first, day trips were perfectly fine. I’d drive there, spend the day wandering around, then head home.
Anime Expo eventually ruined that.
Everything changed in 2008 when I split my first hotel room with friends. Once you’ve experienced staying at the convention, it is really hard to go back. Suddenly you could change costumes, drop off purchases, take an afternoon break, grab dinner with friends, or stay out until midnight without thinking, “Well…I still have to drive home.”
Sure, Los Angeles is not that far away,but after twelve hours of walking, carrying merch, posing for photos, and surviving convention center food, voluntarily driving through LA traffic sounds significantly less appealing.
That is…unless it’s current day and downtown hotel prices make you briefly consider sleeping in your car.
Kidding.
Mostly.
Even splitting rooms with friends got painfully expensive, and I’ve long since grown past the point where I willingly share a hotel room with the equivalent of a football team.
My approach to conventions changed over the years, too. Younger me had the patience to map out every hour of the weekend. Older me still has a list of things I’d like to do, but I’ve learned to leave room for the random adventures that inevitably pop up. Some of my favorite convention memories were never part of the original plan.
Still, hotels became part of the tradition.
Ironically, some of my favorite convention memories didn’t happen inside the convention center at all.
They happened at nearby bars with fellow attendees, including a few meetups I’d organized over the years.
They happened over drinks while everyone laughed about whatever chaos had unfolded that day.
They happened during impromptu convention dinners or while hanging out in hotel rooms late at night, comparing stories from the day while whatever happened to be on TV became background noise.
Those are the moments I find myself looking back on the most.
Sometimes the highlight of an entire convention weekend is not the guest you met or the panel you attended.
Sometimes it’s sitting around a table with friends at midnight, laughing until your sides hurt while someone eventually says,”So…same time next year?”
There was one part of convention life, however, that I never expected would become such a huge part of my experience.
Cosplay.
When I first started attending conventions, I was perfectly happy walking around with a camera, admiring everyone else’s creativity from the sidelines.
Somewhere along the way, that changed.
Cosplay gradually went from something I appreciated to one of my favorite parts of attending conventions. It gave every convention weekend another layer of excitement, introduced me to incredible people, and created memories I never would have had otherwise.
I’ve talked about that journey in a couple of recent posts, so I won’t rehash it here, but I’ll simply say this: it’s hard to imagine my convention experience without cosplay now.
As conventions became a bigger part of my life, they also stopped being something I simply drove to, they became destinations.
My first out-of-state convention was Sakura-Con in Seattle back in 2015, and for the first time I realized conventions could be destinations rather than simply weekend events close to home. Standing in the convention center that weekend made me realize something else: no matter where you go, conventions have their own personality, but they also share that same feeling of community that hooked me back in 2007.
Now, more than a decade later, I’m about to experience Dragon Con for the first time.
Somehow, after more than twenty years, there are still new convention experiences waiting for me.
Of course, conventions themselves have not stood still over the past twenty years.
Back in 2005, flip phones outnumbered smartphones, convention schedules were printed booklets that somehow ended up folded in half by Saturday afternoon, and if you wanted to meet up with friends, you actually had to pick a place and hope everyone showed up on time.
Today, nearly everything lives on our phones. Schedules, maps, group chats, ride shares, restaurant recommendations, and tickets are all just a few taps away. It’s undoubtedly more convenient, even if I occasionally miss the simplicity of getting a little lost and accidentally stumbling into something memorable.
Cosplay has evolved just as dramatically, the overall craftsmanship is on another level compared to when I first started attending conventions. 3D printing, foam smithing, LEDs, elaborate props, and professional-quality wigs have raised the bar in ways I never could have imagined back in 2005.
At the same time, I don’t think the heart of cosplay has really changed. Whether it’s an incredibly detailed competition costume or someone proudly wearing a simple closet cosplay they put together themselves, the best part has always been seeing people excited to share something they love.
Social media has changed conventions in both good ways and bad.It is easier than ever to keep in touch with friends, discover photos you did not even know were taken, and find gatherings or last-minute events.
On the other hand, I sometimes wonder if we spend a little too much time looking at conventions through our phone screens instead of simply enjoying the moment. Then again, maybe every generation says something like that. Some things change, some things stay the same.
Honestly, I think that’s part of what keeps conventions interesting year after year.If you had told the guy wandering aimlessly through the Anime Expo Exhibit Hall back in 2005 that, more than twenty years later, he would still be attending conventions and still be looking forward to the next one, I don’t hink he would have believed you.
And somehow, I’m already looking forward to the next convention.