---
Sunday: A la maison de thé
 --- 

I must be the only otaku in the history of mankind to get up early on
Sunday morning of a con, not to check out before the rush mind you, but
to practice my French. 

Before I leave for "La Maison de thé," the French-language panel,
Amelia asks me to stop by Artist's Alley afterwards and find Sarah's
companion and ask about the progress of her fanart. Amelia has no
intention of leaving quite yet. She had a long night on the dance
floor, and is in bad need of a shower to boot. At any rate, the Slayers
panel at the Montreal room, where she agreed to meet some of her new
friends, is not until eleven. Amelia lent the artist a couple of her
_Saiyuki_ graphic novels as models, and needs to get them back before
she (Amelia) leaves. I remind her checkout is at noon and to have her
stuff out of the room before then. The hotel (because they're nice that
way) are allowing con-goers to check their bags in the hotel cloakroom
until closing ceremonies. 

There is, in fact, no tea at "The Tea House," though a cosplayer
dressed as Nabeshin from _Excel Saga_ has brought enormous sticks of
Pocky for breakfast. Even given it's ten on Sunday, I'm surprised how
few people are there; people come in and go throughout the hour, but
I'm pretty sure no more than twenty people show up. 

The panel chair, a young overweight French Canadian with glasses and a
shaved head, begins by thanking his stars he's at Anime North, and able
to take refuge from the ceaseless Star Wars publicity--much of it
featuring Jar-jar Binks--that has inundated Montreal. 

The discussion, of course, is all in French, and I can only understand
about twenty percent of what is being said. Most questions at first
(including some from a mother with children) are general questions. 

About dubs, and the difference between English language dubs, almost
all done in North America, and French dubs, almost all done in France.
American directors give their voice actors much more leeway in
interpretation than French directors do, apparently. On the credit
side, French VAs have much more prestige than American VAs. Of course,
"true fans" will never be satisfied with dubs, though it probably
doesn't help that many French anime dubbers try to cut costs by
translating the English dub scripts, not the original Japanese. 

On anime-style art, and how best to improve one's own. Practice,
practice, is the only honest answer. This leads to some discussion
about the popularity of faux-anime style art in ads for clubs,
concerts, and so forth, usually very badly done. Someone dreams of
getting into the anime business. English-language dubs are made in
Canada, but not anime as such. One would be better off trying to get
into the Canadian animation business. 

On J-pop: most of the bands we hear about, alas, are manufactured bands
like the Backstreet Boys. Puffy Ami and Yumi are an example, who, like
the Jackson Five before them, managed to score their own cartoon. 

Finally, I decide to bite, and in my faltering French ask what events
are available for anime fans around Montreal. A panellist immediately
jumps out of his chair and starts handing out flyers for Concept, a
science fiction convention held in Montreal every November, widely
attended by local anime fans. Nabeshin also refers me to the Fantasia
Film Festival held in July; the website is fantasiafest.com. (Merci,
Nabeshin!) 

There is, however, no con in Montreal devoted to anime. I offer that I
do find that odd. It's no surprise Anime North can do this well in
Toronto with its three million people, but Montreal is a city of about
two million after all. Couldn't an "Animé Québec" do comparably well in
Montreal? 

The panel chair quickly bursts my bubble. Apparently, the record
attendance for a general SF convention in Montreal is "sept centaines."
My jaw drops. That's all? 

Me: [convinced I hadn't heard him right; in English] Seven hundred?
Chair: Yes. 

To put that into perspective, I purchased pre-registration numbers 3112
(me) and 3113 (Amelia), and (I later found out) attendance at Anime
North this year was 9500. So, more realistically, an Animé Québec (I
infer) would be lucky to draw five hundred, no more than a regional
convention in the US might. (I'm thinking JAFAX at Grand Valley State
University in southwest Michigan, where some of us from Animosity used
to go for a day trip.) As it is, Concept apparently will be nicely
accommodated by a Days Inn on rue Guy. (Where Montreal, home of
_Protoculture Addicts_, does have a comparative advantage is in fandom
devoted to retro anime like _Albator_/_Captain Harlock_,
_Goldorak_/_Gigantor_, and of course _Lady Oscar_.) 

Another thing that hadn't occurred to me was the amount of organization
that goes into making a big event like a con happen. Frankly not
everybody in the metropolis of Quebec has what it takes to organize a
big event, as the Montreal Olympics made clear. (Ask any Montrealer
about the Olympic Stadium, aka "The Big Owe," a crumbling white
elephant with a price tag of one billion dollars that the city is still
paying thirty years later.) The panelists recount the sad saga of a
disastrous anime convention known to Montreal fan history as the "Freak
Show." The publicity for this event, being held in the biggest
francophone city in the Americas, was in English only. The guest of
honor was George Takei. Not only was the admission was $25 per day, but
the events on each day were exact repeats of the events of the last,
giving nobody a reason to stick around for more than one. The Olympic
spirit haunts Montreal still. 

 --- 

I go back to the room at eleven to grab my things and check out, only
to find I can't do it over the TV, as I'd expected; I have to do it in
person at the front desk. Fortunately the line's not terribly long for
check out. (Apparently the over-the-TV checkout is still in
development.) Amelia is long gone, or at least her stuff is. I head
over to Hall D to look for her graphic novels and see how my own
fanarts are coming along, as well as to grab the Anime North t-shirt I
ordered for Amelia but have only now gotten around to collecting. 

Sarah has a pleasant surprise for me when I show up. She hasn't, in her
enthusiasm, actually completed my picture of Yukino and Kano, but the
preliminary sketch is just about done, and she plans to start the
coloring that day. The scene is slightly different from what I had in
mind. Yukino is impeccably dressed, every inch the MP, while Kano wears
shorts and a Maple Leaf T-shirt; however, instead of leaning on her big
sister in a moment of bonding (or a holiday snap pose, anyway), Kano is
inspecting the tulips with a slightly too enthusiastic look on her
face, while Yukino looks on indulgently. Peropero is hiding under the
bench. 

Kano: (waxing eloquent) I guess the Dutch royal family stayed in Canada
during the war, and Princess Margaret of Holland grew up in Ottawa. So
after the war the Dutch government gave Canada these tulips as a
present to say thank you. I mean, wouldn't anyone be grateful if they
could live in Ottawa for a while?
Yukino: (grinning and bearing it) Uh-huh...can we go to Parliament Hill
now?
Kano: Sure!...(suddenly skeptical) Though you didn't really have to dress
up, ya know...
Yukino: Hmph. I want to look my best in case I meet the Prime Minister. 

My aunt and I did have the privilege of seeing Pierre Pettigrew,
Canada's foreign affairs minister, come out of his car and run to his
office when we visited the Hill, so it could happen, though Mr.
Pettigrew didn't give us a second glance. 

I am most impressed, and am not afraid to say so while I give her the
agreed-on payment. As agreed, I get the finished product just in time
for Canada Day. Sarah McMacken's website, if you want a commission from
her, is www.littlemisssarah.com. (If you want to see Yukino and Kano
outside the Bank of Canada, let me know and I'll scan it in.) It turns
out she's done commissions for Molson, so it was no wonder I was a
satisfied customer. 

Amelia, it turns out, has not been so lucky. Her fanartist has barely
begun the Saiyuki sketch--she hasn't drawn much more than a couple of
heads--and there is no way so much as a complete sketch is going to be
finished by the time Amelia has to leave. As I write this Amelia still
hasn't received her drawing, despite repeated e-mails. 

Angela has been just as diligent as Sarah; her sketch of Nanami at le
Troquet is about done. Nanami, wearing a summer dress, is sitting at
the table outside le Troquet of an evening, resting her chin on the
back of her left hand, a cappuccino and her purse before her. I am
impressed enough to give Angela $10 more than I had originally offered,
telling her I am looking forward to seeing the finished painting, and
still thinking I have cheated her. 

I finally get the painting in late June, though a bit late for la Fête
nationale du Québec. The detail is amazing: the stars reflected in the
window; steam rising from the cappuccino; the design of the purse,
including the handle; even the finer details of the rose in Nanami's
hair and the fringe of the skirt of her summer dress (lower-cut than in
the sketch--Nanami's done some growing!) are not neglected. 

Just before sending it out, Angela asks me if she can scan the finished
painting it before sending it out. I agree, and you should be able to
find it on Angela Jordan's website at
www.angelfire.com/anime4/cerulean_breeze. For good measure she sends
the original sketch, the pictures of Nanami and of le Troquet--and a
print of the picture of Yumi and Sachiko I'd longed after. (Thank you,
Angela!) 

 -- 

As agreed I meet Amelia outside the Montreal room just after noon. She
is alone. I tease her that she keeps telling me about all these new
friends she's made, including one who hails from Ottawa, but I haven't
actually seen any yet. They always seem to all run off just before I
show up. Amelia's told me they're most surprised that the brother
Amelia is staying with is not (say) a University of Toronto college bum
but an economist at the Bank of Canada. Maybe they're afraid of
economists. Some people are. Typical reaction when I told a pretty girl
at MSU what I studied: "Ew!" Maybe I should tell them I work for Genom
instead. 

"You know, I had to actually stay here and wait for you," Amelia says. 

We don't actually stand there that long. Amelia wants to go to Hall D
to go yell at her fanartist. It is about now that the line should be
forming for Susan Aceron, however, and I have no idea how long it will
be, so I suggest Amelia go on ahead and we can meet for lunch later; I
want to see who won the cosplay contest as well. I realize a bit too
late that I needn't have sent Amelia on her way, because it turns out
there is no line. At all. Susan Aceron is there on the second floor
lobby all right, along with Hilary Haag and Cathy Weseluck, but nobody
is waiting to get her autograph, and I can walk right up. 

Even now that I have sense enough to know better I still am thrown when
voice actors are nothing like the characters that I know them as. Ms.
Aceron turns out to be an attractive twenty-something of Filipino
extraction, born in Calgary, Alberta, and far more bubbly than Sailor
Pluto would ever be outside a fanfic. She thinks Sailor Pluto is pretty
cool, but beyond that her grasp of _Sailor Moon_ seems a little narrow.
When I tease her with a question regarding the truth of rumors
circulating about Pluto and Tuxedo Mask, or, more seriously, start to
offer my regrets that _Sailor Stars_ probably won't be dubbed, so we
can see more Pluto, Ms. Aceron's expression is that species of polite
smile betraying utter incomprehension. 

I finally ask, "I don't suppose you watch much anime on your days off?" 

"My son does," she replies. "He keeps me informed." 

Not well enough, but I suppose it is her first con. I take the signed
con brochure and move on. Downstairs, the list of winners in the
cosplay contest reminds one of the deathless words of the Dodo: all
have won, and so all must have prizes. By my count about a third of the
entrants in the contest got an award of some sort. 

I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised to find a couple of black
Americans having an animated discussion in the corridor as I walk back
towards the lobby. I'm only two hours from Buffalo here. What really
does come as a surprise is what they're talking about--_Dangermouse_!
What was one of my favorite cartoons on British television when I was a
child in Ireland was shown on Nickelodeon in the old days of the
network, before it could afford its own programming. _Dangermouse_ has
apparently just been released on Region 1 DVD. 

I have only one question. "Is _Count Duckula_ on DVD?" 

It is. (_Count Duckula_ was a spinoff of _Dangermouse._ A vampire duck,
who's a vegetarian, no less.) The Buffalo _Dangermouse_ fan is pleased
to find out he wasn't the only one watching as a kid. Of course I got
to see it in its first run, so in the otaku stakes I guess I win. 

Mind you there several other series I remember from Irish and British
television and, later, from Nickelodeon, that were childhood favorites,
and that I now know were anime. Forget Carl Macek and _Robotech_--
there's a special place in heaven reserved for whoever brings out the
English dub of _Ulysses 31_ on Region 1 DVD. (Would you believe a sci-
fi reworking of Homer's _Odyssey_ by, I've discovered since, the
director of _Lady Oscar_? Or that when I read the _Odyssey_ in high
school, I couldn't help thinking I preferred the cartoon? If not, why
not?) 

I meet Amelia in the lobby. She had her heart set on the Japanese
restaurant at the hotel, but it's not open for lunch on the weekend,
and the sushi place a few doors down Dixon Road is apparently of
dubious quality. We settle for cash and carry again, and sit by the go
tables set up near the International meeting rooms to eat. One of
Amelia's new friends passes by, and sits with us for a few minutes.
Shan is a fourteen year old from Buffalo, and an amazingly seasoned
con-goer; she was not only on the Slayers panel this morning, but has
also been active at Eriecon, the regional con catering to fans around
Buffalo and the Niagara Valley. (Mind you she and Amelia got talking
because she didn't think Amelia was nineteen either.) To make sure
Anime North doesn't lack for panels there is a deal where the con
offers free gifts to those willing to sit on one or more panels,
ranging from a pin (one panel) to a refund of convention entry fees
(four or more panels), payable after the con. We talk a few minutes
about the finer points of running a good panel. Bring music. Plan
topics for discussion; unplanned panels peter out fast, if they ever
get started. Know the voice actor names. It helps stimulate discussion,
and if English VAs of your show will be at the con, make damn sure they
are invited to your panel. 

Eventually Shan is called away by her mother. Amelia decides to head
off to Hall D again, to look for anime to take home. I don't
immediately follow, but sit in the hotel main lobby. I'm amazed how
exhausted I am. Another hint maybe I'm getting too old for this, and
I'm not even thirty. Of course at this con I've less to distract me
from signs of fatigue, being alone except for Amelia. I don't remember
being this tired last year at ACen. 

After a few minutes I decide to follow Amelia to the dealers. I wind up
buying an old Rei Ayanami photograph book, printed in 1996. To that and
the anthology featuring Svetlana Chmakova's story, I add (in lieu of
_Dramacon_) the first volume of the _Genshinken_ manga, a story about a
"normal" college girl who gets sucked into anime fandom by a boyfriend
who really is too good looking to be an otaku. A more realistic _Otaku
no Video_. Looks intriguing, and when I do get to reading it I am not
disappointed. Highly recommended. To that I add a couple of non-H _Eva_
dojinshi and a non-H _Utena_ dojinshi, starring Nanami. 

(Alas, no Karekano, and precious little H dojinshi in general. Canadian
customs are not fond of pornography. When I moved I wound up having to
sell my Karekano dojin collection to a friend in fandom; it broke my
heart, but I didn't want to have to explain to Dudley Doright, or a
poor substitute thereof, why I was trying to bring depictions of
teenagers having sex into Canada.) 

Whilst in Hall D I wander over to the section reserved for model
makers. Among the models is what looks like apparently an old vacuum
cleaner with a doll's head stuck on top, the effect being of something
out of the Brothers Quay. I ask a young, bearded man standing nearby,
whom I presume is its creator, just what it is. 

"This is Hentako," he says in a disturbingly matter-of-fact tone. "She
is a masturbation machine with attachments for the use of both males
and females." 

"I see," I reply in a politely interested tone, while moving in the
general direction of away. 

Away, in this context, is the other corner of the models section, where
I find the chair of la Maison de thé, working on a blissfully more
mainstream sort of model. Fingers Delarus (as he calls himself) thanks
me for coming to the panel. Right beside him is what looks like a jar
of pins, which turn out to be the pins for panel staffing I'd heard
about. Apparently he's one of those in charge of handing them out. On
the sly, he slips me a couple, I suppose for being a good sport that
morning. I'm sure I was the only professed anglophone in the room. 

Most ATMs put in the path of con-goers are invariably empty by
Saturday. By what I can only describe as divine providence the ATM in
the Anime North dealer's room is still working on Sunday afternoon. It
happens to be right in front of the booth of Ottawa's own Comic Book
Shoppe--I take a moment to say hello (alas, business was only so-so).
It is there I run into Amelia again; she is not actually in the long
line, but is escorting another new friend, a pleasantly plus-sized
young woman with short dirty blonde hair, about Amelia's age, who is in
the ATM line. 

This friend was apparently cosplaying Sanzo, the Buddhist monk from
Saiyuki who tames Son Goku, earlier in the weekend. Amelia met Sanzo on
Saturday, approaching her for the express purpose of gushing over her
costume, and they wound up following each other around. It turns out
Sanzo leaves my endurance for roughing it in the dust; apparently she
endured a seventeen hour bus ride from Wisconsin to be here. 

I can't help asking her, "Wouldn't it have been a lot easier to just go
to Anime Central?" 

"Well," she replies, "there was someone here I particularly wanted to
see." 

Amelia had said she had a hunch that Sanzo was a lesbian, though Sanzo
herself doesn't let on, and it's hardly my business to ask. Mind you,
it becomes clear what Amelia had in mind soon enough. Sanzo has to
leave soon, and wanted to find her friend and say goodbye; when she
comes across her friend, a thinner woman with a boy's haircut, they
embrace, I dare say passionately for a long time, longer than straight
"girlfriends" would, as Amelia and I look on. They could get married up
here. I must wonder if Sanzo had not thought, for a few seconds at
least, of just not going home at all. Love finds a way. 

 -- 

Amelia, at any rate, really does have to go back. Her plane leaves at
about six, so we're not going to be able to make it to the closing
ceremonies; there is a later plane, but Amelia wouldn't have gotten
home much before midnight. That, and I've reassured Amelia she won't
miss much; closing ceremonies are essentially a glorified pep rally.
I'll miss the fanfic readings at 4 pm, but me, I have to be at work in
the morning, and I want to catch the 7 pm bus to Ottawa, which won't
get in until midnight. 

Before we leave we do want to see the 404s again, at their encore
performance in the Mississauga room. Mark lets slip that he grew up in
Stony Creek, Ontario. It turns out that there is a member of the
audience from Stony Creek in the audience, a certain Ms. Passmore. The
Passmore Road in Stony Creek is apparently runs by what was once her
grandfather's farm. But enough local Ontario history, we want laughs! 

1. Hansel and Gretel as told by
(a) a movie trailer voiceover guy;
(b) a horror movie narrator;
(c) J.R.R. Tolkien; and
(d) a valley girl. 

(a): Little did the children know...that the drama of their lives was
about to begin, as...
(b): Hansel and Gretel walked through the dark, dark forest, listening
to the ghastly shrieks of the owls and ravens, until...
(c): they came upon the Gingerbread House of Rivindel. Verily, it was
made of good gingerbread, and tiled with many goodly lollipops...and
there was much rejoicing...
(d): and like, the kids are like, "Yay!" and start eating up all the
candy! 

2. Change. Scenes from a gym. 

"Oh no, the gym teacher's coming! Let's run!" [Change!]
"Let's walk!" [Change!]
"Let's skip!" 

"I've injured myself with a javelin! I'm bleeding!" [Change!]
"I'm gushing blood!" [Change!]
"I'm fine." 

3. A new game (well, new to me): Bad Dubs. One team performs an
"original" dialogue, the other team "dubs" it over. Scene: A Klingon
barbecue.
Klingon: ARRRRGH!
Dub VA: [quietly] Ow.
Klingon: ARRRRGH!
Dub VA: [politely] I think I lost my glasses.
Klingon: [biting into some meat] ARRRRGH!
Dub VA: Tastes like Spock! 

4. Improvisation with random prop, taken from audience.
Skull: "I think I know this guy."
Fox tail: "Damn. My Pocky's gone off."
Skull: "Alas, poor Scott McNeil, I knew him well...oh wait, this is Brian
Drummond." 

5. Oscar-Winning Moment. Making a melodrama out of losing one's ticket
at a parking garage.
Attendant: Sir, if you've lost your ticket I'm going to have to...
Driver: (poignant) You don't understand. Haven't you ever had lost
somebody dear to you?...My mother's dying wish...was to take my parking
ticket...
Attendant: (suddenly darkly) Oh yes, indeed I have. You don't remember
me?...My father who you murdered? My mother who you raped?...My bushes
that you trimmed? 

6. Word Box. Source: Magic Knights Rayearth. 

"What say we go in the swimming pool, eh?"
Box: "MONSTERS!"
[Of course we can't have monsters in the pool, so somebody produces a
gun.]
"What kind of a gun is that anyway?"
Box: "Daddy!" 

7. Mad Director. Scene: Attack of the Pikachus. 

Take 1: Two men go off to catch themselves a Pikachu...
[But no! The director wants Action! Drama! Explosions! Which means...]
Take 2: Two men go off to catch themselves a Pikachu...with a rocket
launcher!
[Still not good enough. Now the director wants to make this a romantic
drama.]
Take 3: Two men go in search of their dear Pikachu.
"Come back Pikachu! For the love of Ash!"
"Misty needs something really badly...and we don't mean money for the
bike!"
[Will that do? Of course not! Now the mad director wants to use a wind
tunnel!]
Take 4: Two me go in search of their beloved Pikachu...in the air!]
"Come back Pikachu! Don't fly away!" 

8. Sound Effects. A radioactive gerbil has invaded Toronto. The heroes
go to bring down the gerbil in a helicopter...
SFX: "Club club club..."
No, wait, that sounds more like a submarine! The submarine fires a
torpedo at the gerbil and blows it out of Lake Ontario! Fur coats for
all! 

9. Last but not least: Scenes from the Hat! 

What not to say to prospective inlaws:
"We...couldn't wait..."
"You shoulda seen the position I had her in last night!"
Alchemy gone bad: "I made Kool-Aid!"
Door-to-door Gundam salesman:
"It slices, it dices, it cuts up Relena 500 times!"
And (best left to the imagination): How to kill Pikachu! 

The last thing I do before we go to the hotel cloakroom and grab
Amelia's belongings (I like a fool am carrying my life on my back) is
to get signatures from the 404s, and ask how one joins. Apparently
local talent is used whenever possible, and there is an open casting
call on the 404 website. Please God they'll come to Ottawa soon--or
Chicago. 

 -- 

Waiting for the shuttle to Pearson with us are a few teenagers. Boy is
refusing to give girl any of his Pocky; it's the last he has much hope
of getting for quite a while. How hard can it be to get Pocky in
downtown Toronto? I ask. To get downtown is the problem; the commute
from their place in the suburbs to downtown is an hour by local bus and
another hour by subway. 

Oh well, I offer, it can't be too bad in Toronto suburban wasteland;
they have the Anime Network in Toronto, right? No dice; it's pay per
view, and apparently costs $2.95 _per episode_. For comparison, a DVD
costs $4 to rent for two days at the Comic Book Shoppe in Ottawa. I
suggest they take that as their cue to move somewhere cool when they're
older. 

Canada has just avoided another general election a year after the last
one, thanks to a budget vote passing by only one vote. (My house-
hunting trip was in June 2004, during the last election, and Amelia was
pleased to hear she would not be visiting during yet another election
season.) We have just gotten for some reason to discussing which anime
character would make the best prime minister (I suggest Yukino
Miyazawa, obviously) when the shuttle to Pearson shows up. 

The ride to Pearson is uneventful. Once we get to the United ticket
booth (graced by what even I recognized as the worst kind of VCR-manual
French I'd ever seen) and Amelia has her ticket, I help Amelia with her
customs forms (as long as it's not porn, they don't care what Full
Metal Alchemist is, just write DVD; you don't have to give the precise
value, just guess). Fortunately, she has her immigration forms ready,
passport and green card. Unfortunately, she has them together, which I
can't help but tell her off for; she's making it awfully convenient for
God Knows Who to get himself a free First World passport and green card
to sell under the table, and if God forbid she'd lost _both_ her
immigration IDs at once she might as well be Osama bin Laden for all
the sympathy Homeland Security would have. I wouldn't have minded
taking her to stay in Ottawa while we tried to get the Irish embassy
and US embassy to figure out how to get her home and replace her IDs,
but I wasn't planning on it. 

What can I say? I find the idea of Amelia being whisked off to Syria by
guys in uniforms scarier than the idea of her being attacked by an
urban mob in the Cleveland bus station. I walk Amelia to the door of US
immigration, which is far as I can escort her, where I give her a big
hug goodbye. 

Of course, Amelia was never particularly likely to be sent to Syria
either, so I might just have inherited my father's penchant for
paranoia. In the event, Amelia's problems with US customs and
immigration were less the result of overzealousness as just idiocy. To
wit, presented for your amusement in Amelia's own words: 

So I get to the first customs officer and he mumbles something at
me. I ask him to repeat the question. He mumbles again. I ask
again. I think I hear "Did you do any shopping on-line?"
        "No."
        He gives me a funny look.
        "I didn't understand the question. What was the question?"
        "Were you waiting patiently in line?"
        "Yes, I was."
        "Were you waiting patiently in line?"
        "_Yes._"
        Anyway, so I give him my customs forms and he mumbles something.
        "Excuse me?"
"You did this form wrong. You forgot a section. You have to do
the bottom section and the back section."
        Oh, crap. "Oh, okay, sorry. I'll do it now, yeah?"
        So I start to look over the form when he goes, "Why are you doing
that form?"
        "You said I did it wrong. Don't you want me to do it right?"
        "You don't need to do that form. You have an alien card."
        "But the lady told me to."
        "Which lady?"
        "The lady who gave me my ticket."
        "..."
        "..."
So he starts asking me where I was and I tell him "an anime
convention." Blank look. "A Japanese animation convention."
        "You mean, like cartoons?"
        "Yeah, cartoons."
        "Was it fun?"
Look, dude, first you ask me repeatedly about my damn line-
waiting and now you're asking about my feelings about the
experience of Toronto? Dude, check me for goddamn bombs. "Yes, it
was fun."
So he writes a weird symbol on my customs and sends me on my way.
I look at the symbol, wondering if it's the mentally deficient
symbol, and give it to the next customs guy.
He writes another weird symbol and sends me somewhere else.
"Okay, now I'm going to go to the mental retardation center
because I can't follow instructions. Great. This is going to be
hard to explain."
Turns out that I was selected for a random check. By the way, I'm
always getting selected for random checks. It has to be the
bulging bookbag.
So the lady tells me what I'm there for and asks me the usual
question what I was doing in Canada.
        "An anime convention. Japanese animation."
        "Oh, so do you work for them?"
        "No, I'm a fan. I watch anime."
        "Then what do you do at an anime convention?"
"Well... um...Anime fans come together and...um..." Crap, what
exactly is the precise definition of a con, anyway? "...meet and
share anime..."
        "Oh, Trekkies!"
"Yeah, like that." Of course, I felt insulted at the comparison
until I realized that I'm a Trekkie too. Which made me feel
worse.
        So she asks what I bought and I offer to show her but she
declines. "Just tell me."
        You're just going to open my bags anyway. "DVDs and books."
She opens my luggage and discovers the Fullmetal DVD case. She
points at Ed and goes, "Doesn't she have a video game?"
        "He, and yes, he does."
        "What?"
"He's male. The hair throws people off." Then I notice that she's
moved on from the DVDs and to my anime shirt. "Oh no, she's
female. The one with the video game is not. He's a guy."
So then she opens my backpack and finds the manga (and I explain
the gender of the Saiyuki covers).
        Finally, she decides that I'm harmless and lets me go. 

 -- 

While Homeland Security evaluates the security risk posed by drawings
of metrosexual kung-fu fighters, I take the bus from Pearson back to
the subway. The subway station nearest the Greyhound terminal exits
into a shopping mall, shuttered on Sunday night, except for a
convenience store, which sells Pocky of all things. I buy a peach
instead. 

I am almost at the bus station when a few young people pass by me in
the corridor, their whole lives on their backs. One is a boyish-looking
girl with odd makeup, like San from _Princess Mononoke_. 

"Were you just at Anime North?" I ask. 

Of course they were, and are overjoyed. They are strangers to Toronto
too, and, denizens of Otaku Nation, are glad to have encountered a
fellow otaku who knows the Bramptonian capital better than they. San
was actually supposed to be a character from _Inuyasha_ with similar
face-paint, but the character name meant nothing to me, and I forgot it
as soon as I heard it, and it is as San I remember her. I admit to
getting a cheap thrill leading the way, the same I got in Ottawa and
Montreal with my mother and aunt who couldn't reach the French signs,
so for once I got to be in control and lead then around, not the other
way around. We are no more than a few hundred meters from the station,
mind you, and are there in a couple of minutes. Problems. I look for
the gate at which the 7:00 pm bus for Ottawa is supposed to leave, but
I can't find it on the monitor in the station. When I get to the
information desk San is just ahead of me in line. 

"I'm not so good at reading. Could you tell me when the bus leaves for
Guelph?" 

There was something hearing San ask her question that forced me to
remember she wasn't San. I should have known who she really was. I had
met many like her in the old days at the MSU anime club. She was an
ordinary young woman from a provincial town in southwest Ontario with
few prospects, come to Anime North for a few days to escape her real
life and live for a little while in the Paris of her dreams. It finally
hit me about then why Canadian otaku don't write fics about Canada. To
San, as Misato K. might have put it, Canada was her harsh reality, from
which anime was an escape. God knows I was only able to write a
nostalgic songfic about MSU once I knew I had seen the last of Lansing,
Michigan. 

The bus I thought was at seven wasn't until 9:15 pm. I put my stuff in
a locker and went for a walk around downtown, ostensibly to find some
supper. I wound up wandering mostly around the University of Toronto
area, past Queen's Park, passing the student-rented townhouses where
Alan Harnum imagined Utena and Anthy, or perhaps Utena and Mikage,
taking shelter after leaving Ohtori Academy. What would I do if I came
across Anthy here? What would she do if I called after her? 

Parvati: Table for one, sir?
Mitsuru: [somehow recognizing her at once] Anthy Himemiya! Is that you?
Parvati: [stunned for a split second] Who? I don't...
Mitsuru: You were at my school! Everybody knew you. You were the
chairman's sister. The girl who tended the roses...
Parvati: [recovering her mask, smiling thinly] Sir, I'm sure I've never
met you in my life. Would you like me to seat you, or just phone the
police?
[Beat.]
Mitsuru: Of course. Sorry to bother you.
[Mitsuru hesitates, then exits, clearly embarrassed at his obvious
mistake.]
Ursula: [at her table in the corner] Parvati? Who was that, eh?
Parvati: He clearly took me for someone else. 

I pass several Indian restaurants as I wander downtown Toronto, but I
don't go in to any of them. 

When I had been last in Toronto and visited Alan, I had insisted that
he help me find this wonderful food he had told me of known as poutine.
While we searched, we had come across, of all things, an okonomiyaki
restaurant, and wound up having okonomiyaki instead. That was a year
and a half ago, though, and I no longer remember where it is. When I
finally find the okonomiyaki place, just off Yonge Street, I find it
closes early on Sunday night. I wind up having a Polish sausage bought
from a street vendor for Sunday dinner as I walk back to the Greyhound
bus station. 

I should have bought something to drink too. As it was, all I remember
of the bus ride home was how thirsty I was between Toronto and Tweed,
where we pulled over and I practically ran into the rest stop to buy
something cold. I don't get into Ottawa until 2:30am Monday morning. I
took a cab home and went straight to bed. 

 -- 

While crossing Dixon Road from the Toronto Congress Centre to the
Doubletree for the last time, I asked Amelia had she had fun, and would
she come next year. She asked me how much it would cost to come. A very
practical question. Con trips need planning after all. How much indeed?
$45 Canadian for weekend admission and C$119 a night for two nights for
the room is already C$283. Biggest ticket item, if she wants to attend
in style, is the US$300+ plane ticket. I strongly suggest she make a
road trip out of it with some friends from home, and split the room
with them; it's only a five hour drive from Cleveland to Toronto. 

For all I know she will go next year. It's much closer to her than
ACen, and much better value for time and money than OhayoCon, if all
I've heard about OhayoCon is true. 

Me? Probably not. 

Not because Anime North was a bad con, by any means. The whole weekend,
though, I felt I didn't belong, and it was too late for me to ever
really belong. It wasn't just about how alien I felt in the Bramptonian
Empire, as compared to the US or even in French Canada, "French" being
a redundancy as far as I've ever really known it. Certainly some of the
most fulfilling interactions I had were with fellow foreigners: the
Montreal cosplayers; the black American _Dangermouse_ otaku; not to
mention Svetlana Chmakova. But I was reminded constantly just how old I
really am, by the standards of anime fandom. If I had been coming to
Anime North for five years and more, like I have with ACen and had
friends waiting for me there about my age, it wouldn't have been so
bad. It's Amelia's turn to set down roots in fandom. Me, my roots are
elsewhere. If I'm going to run the chasse-galerie with Haruko again,
I'd better be going to where I'm known. 

Jeanne, will I still be welcome at the Fanfic dinner at ACen 2006? Even
if I do have a life now. Trust me, working for Genom's overrated. 

OWARI 

 




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