Let me state up front: This isn't going to be a funny story, and it ain't gonna be PG. It's not even a story, really. It's a series of thoughts on PAX that don't necessarily have to do with PAX per se.
OK, I'm going to be a "girl" for a moment and say... I'm kind of freaked out.
For those who aren't going to click through, here's the nitty: A woman was sexually assaulted at the Minecraft party Saturday night during PAX Prime in Seattle. If you've ever worked in the news or criminal justice industry - and odds are you haven't - you'll know that sexual assault is a broad term. (No pun intended, I assure you.) Read the story if you want to know exactly what happened. I'm not going to go into a Republican-level deconstruction of "rape."
I will, apparently, still make inappropriate jokes.
Because that's how I deal when I'm freaked out. And something happened to me personally on Sunday that actually freaked me out.
Every year, Gamewatcher and I leave our son with a sitter the last night of PAX and get a room downtown. It's a mini-vacation. The last few years, we've picked him up and taken him to the show on Sunday. For various reasons, this year Gamewatcher volunteered to drop off the bags and pick up the kid while I went to the show. I received a text shortly before the doors opened stating they would be heading up to the 6th floor instead of the queue room, so I was free to go have fun by myself in the main exhibition hall.
When the doors opened, I felt like a kid unleashed: no worries about the type of game I wanted to play or how long the wait. Frankly, I was a little drunk with power. Would it be Zombie U? Gotham City-something-something? Maybe a trip to the Sony booth. I was twisting and turnin. Left to Sony! No, right - to the Walking Dead! Holy crap, there's no line at Borderlands?!? - when I ran into a very large man.
A very, very, very large man.
As in, you could line two of me up, side-by-side, and he would still block me completely. And I am by no means a waif. I immediately apologized. He stopped, turned around, lifted his arms, and belted, "ARE YOU MESSING WITH ME?"
I just stared, unsure what to say. He came back with, "I SAID, ARE YOU TRYING TO MESS WITH ME?" At which point my emergency defense system (smart ass grrl - activate!) kicked in. I replied, semi-sexily, "Why no. I'm hitting on you."
He lowered his arms, laughed and said, "Well, I can see why." And walked off. As he strode away, an Enforcer (event security) and a nearby exhibitor walked over, tapped me on the shoulder, and gave me the "Is everything OK?" look that every woman on Earth recognizes.
Because this happens to all of us, everywhere.
Now, my situation is NOTHING compared to what happened to the woman in that link above. (Didja click? You really should click...) But that doesn't mean it didn't throw any more of a pall over my day. It set my defense system to high alert, which meant: Find Gamewatcher and stay close the rest of PAX.
When I found him, I jokingly told him what happened. Because that's what I do. I didn't say, "Honey, I'm freaked," because I didn't want to upset him. And realistically, I think the guy thought he was being funny. But what might have seemed funny or crass to him was scary as hell to me, a woman literally half his size.
Recent PAXes have been tainted by conversations about dickwolves (not even going to link - go Google it), "wife aggro," and general adolescent idiocy. But I still love it. The PAX site often includes a cheerful "Welcome home," and that's really how I feel. It's the one time a year I can go out and be among people who share my shorthand of obscure geek references and gaming fanaticism. Once a year, we rule. Hell, every Starbucks in the TRI-STATE ARREEEAAAA had Mario or Luigi on their signs all weekend long.
IT. IS. HOME. And I refuse to let any idiots drive me out of my home. So I will continue to counter the rare - and they are rare - offensive or stupid comment at PAX with an equally offensive or stupid comment. There's also a good chance I'll scream "WIL WHEATON RULE, ASSHOLE" at the top of my lungs at least once next year. (It's, like, tradition.) Because inappropriate humor has always been, and will always be, the way I deal with being a minority in the gaming world.
But next year, I think I'll go to the 6th floor with Gamewatcher.
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