“Hey! Con virgins! Want a ribbon?” a woman in a booth yelled at me and my childhood best friend, Kyra.
We were embarrassed for being singled out, but even more embarrassed that she could see what we were so desperately trying to hide: This was our first con. Were we giving off a new-con smell? We slunk over to her. She welcomed us to San Diego Comic-Con and handed us two neon-pink ribbons that read “CON VIRGIN” in big black letters. We tucked them discreetly in our bags.
We quickly realized how magical—and exhausting—cons are. You’re among thousands of people who share the same unbridled enthusiasm you do. It’s crazy! But we crashed and burned in several different arenas—like naively waiting three hours in a miles-long line for the coveted Game of Thrones panel—and vowed to be better prepared next year.
