Why, you stuck up, half-witted scruffy looking nerf-herder!

When I was little I lived in a house with a dark, smelly, creepy attic, and it was my favorite room in the house. The ladder came down in my parent’s walk-in closet with a tug of a string, and as my head cleared the attic floor, all I could see was Star Wars. There were two big reasons why: my mom loves toys, and my mom used to travel a lot for business in the late seventies and all through the eighties. When Star Wars came out, she was the happiest newlywed in the galaxy. Obviously, she was very pleased that George Lucas decided to make playthings out of all his epic space opera characters, and proceeded to buy all of them. Not some, not her favorites, all of them. When she traveled, she would stop at any toy store she could find and buy every figurine and model she could carry home. Eventually she had every original toy in duplicate (and sometimes quadruplicate). My parents didn’t have me for a while, so she just packed up her hundreds of Star Wars toys in clear plastic tubs and put them in the attic. When I was old enough to appreciate the movies (as in, four or five years old), she took me up to the attic and let me take down whatever I wanted, break open the plastic seal that had been there for twenty-odd years, and play with them. Later, when my family went through some difficult financial times, Mom turned to eBay and started selling some of her doubles and figures she didn’t care about, but apparently other people did (in case anyone is curious, the top seller was a 1985 Boba Fett figurine from Droids in the original blister pack that went for $750). I thank her for not guilting me about opening some of the rarer toys and devaluing them considerably.

Right around the time that we started selling, I went to ComicCon in San Diego on Star Wars Day with my boyfriend. I wanted to go because they had a huge book and toy fair, along with some pretty cool panels. My boyfriend wanted to go because he heard Perry Bible Fellowship had a booth. That was it. I spent the day running around trying to get into cool panels and talk to sellers about pricing on original Star Wars toys, and he spent the day complaining about being tired. But even with all his whining and obvious displeasure, he was the one sellers wanted to talk to, not me. When I told one guy that I had a rare X-Wing I was willing to sell, he called his boss in to discuss prices with me, and his boss couldn’t believe that it was me who knew what she was talking about, not the idiot in the Batman shirt (no offense to the Dark Knight). There were plenty of girls at ComicCon, but people still assumed the dudes were the ones who were more dedicated to the genre. I love science fiction, and I love being a fan, but I also like being taken seriously. Being treated like an accessory by some scruffy looking nerf-herder at a toy booth in San Diego is not my idea of equality. Although, judging by the highly populated Princess Leia costume contest, I might be the only one who goes to conventions expecting to be on a level playing field.

What I didn't capture was the league of fanboys and their cameras rushing the stage.

One Response to “Why, you stuck up, half-witted scruffy looking nerf-herder!”

  1. Warren Rochelle says:

    Why, do you think, is SF fandom, sometimes sexist?