Of course, that meant I had a blast. It also meant that I spent a superfluous amount of money in the (multiple) vendor rooms. Holy shit, you guys. I always get a bigger kick out of merchandise than autographs, and year three was no exception. Apart from Tom Atkins and Heather Langenkamp (more on them later), I didn't really indulge in accosting genre notables. I did have my eye on a wrestling cynosure, but his prices were...immoderate? Hell, I'll just say it - "Rowdy" Roddy Piper was charging forty clams for an autograph. That was disappointing, to say the least.
An Elvira photo-op was tempting, but that would have been another fifty dollars down the tubes. As much as I heart everyone's favorite horror hostess, I chose to invest in cool shit that I can either read or watch. Before I divulge my cargo, please allow me to apologize for the paucity of pictures. To be honest, I fucking forgot to take a bounty of photographic evidence. I was too "in the moment," if that makes any sense. Plus, you have to keep in mind that I don't physically hold the phone/camera, so it rarely enters my mind. The images enclosed are pretty boss, though.
Eight! Movies I procured. Two! Shirts total. I picked up a sweet Blacula tee and my third badass Creepshow shirt. You better believe that my Creepshow collection is flourishing in stature and tonnage. Two! That's the admittedly low number of autographs I obtained, but again, I had particular priorities. One! Rare Undertaker action figure (fret not, I will eventually write a separate blurb on this bad boy). One! Back issue of Fangoria. One! Plush Frankenberry head. One! Street Sharks sticker book. That's right. Be jealous.
Clearly, I shot my wad. On the "special guests" front, I spotted William Shatner, Sid Haig, Bill Moseley, Cassandra Peterson (in normal attire, goddamn gorgeous), Corey Feldman (black gloves, ridiculous hat, gratuitous shades...the works, basically), Patty Mullen, Ox Baker and Richard Kiel among others. I felt bad for Kiel. The guy is old, and he was enervated by nightfall. Respect. Due to scheduling conflicts, I missed Sunday's Q&A panel featuring Piper and Hulk Hogan, which was moderated by "Mean" Gene Okerlund. Fuck! Maybe I'll catch a panel next year.
That's all. Here are the pictures, you grumbling ingrates!
THE Tom Atkins. Need I say more? Quite approachable.
Nancy herself! She was such a sweetheart. Naturally, there were oodles of Elm Street press photos to choose from, but I detected a lone still from Just the Ten of Us. I decided to be that motherfucker. Hey, I dug the show as a youngster. She signed it "Sweet Dreams." Seriously rad.
Lounging with a dead deadhead.
My friend, Paul, being goosed by Elvira. Lucky son of a bitch!