Ghost with the Most

The glorious parade of geekdom that is San Diego Comic Con came and went this past weekend with controversy—bless the South Park proprietors for their deadpan “apology” to those offended by their puerile take on Trump—and celebration. One hundred thousand people spilled into the convention center’s glass atrium to sup on overpriced Funko Pops and the signatures of comic legends and up-and-comers. But with the claustrophobia, mediocre food and eternal wait for Hall H celebrities, maybe there’s a better way to experience the joy of nerdiness.

That, my friends, is called ghosting.

I’ve attended San Diego Comic Con four times: first in 2006 as a fledging fangirl, tagging alongside my cosplaying friend who worked on The Simpsons movie; then in 2023 during the actors’ strike, draping the convention center in a melancholy that was only alleviated by meeting the quirky The Great British Baking Show alumna Kim-Joy. The past two years, my boyfriend and I have ghosted the event, which means we maximized our fun by minimizing the amount of money we spent. We didn’t procure badges—even for previous attendees, the annual flurry to obtain tickets is like the Hunger Games.

No matter—the most eye-catching and engaging elements are outside the convention center’s walls. First off, the Gaslamp District and marina of San Diego are vibrant juxtapositions of Californian lifestyle. You mingle with the homeless and the yacht-living, noshing tourists and whimsical street musicians. Strollers containing children, puppies, underground rap albums and piles of comic books and figurines slalom through the crowded streets. It’s a menagerie of costumed revelers and evangelicals damning each other to hell with a Superman or a Terrifier egging them on.

Only at a comic convention would Batman, Joker and Supergirl get along.

Ghosting San Diego Comic Con is like Mardi Gras minus the flashing. (Well, there is the occasional exhibitionist dressed as Wonder Woman or an anime character mugging for YouTubers’ cameras.) The joy rises from the road full of cosplayers and civilians, and it slinks into the flanking restaurants. Patrons hold up “10” ratings as you walk by in your Supergirl and Joker outfits, smiles abound. And yes, there are famous people among us plebians—when we detoured for tacos, SNL cast member and MacGruber himself, Will Forte, was at a table near us.

Outside of our Mexican meal, the occasional coffee or bottled water, the only cost we incurred all day was the $42 parking fee. We reserved our spot online a couple days before, just in case. I’ve heard horror stories of folks doing just that and then getting denied upon arrival at the garage. This is my unpaid endorsement of ParkWhiz. They’ll do you a solid. The lot we chose was right in the thick of the action, just a couple blocks from the con’s closed-off streets.

My partner and I are not patient people, so we avoided any of the “activations” the studios set up. (If you get FOMO from not going through the Fantastic Four maze or skipping the chance to bounce around on plastic butts in the Rick and Morty area, just jump on social media. You’ll save yourself literal hours of not waiting in sun-soaked queues, you’re more active and burning calories.) Instead, we visited the Chuck Jones gallery in Seaport Village. The animation cels and other artworks were captivating and historic, spanning Bugs Bunny to Charlie Brown to Dr. Suess.

So if your perspective of a big event is a vibe rather than a marathon, give ghosting a try. Sometimes the best way to experience something is being a fly on the wall. Or in my case, a fly(ing superhero).