The Gleeful Hysteria of Hall H

San Diego Comic-Con is big. Really big. Lots of stuff, lots of programming, lots of people, lots of sensory input all the time. It’s loud and colorful and would be my worst nightmare if not for the fact that everyone who attends Comic-Con (well, almost everyone) wants the con to work. So people are pretty nice to each other most of the time. And nowhere will you find a single spot with more people who are delirious with fan joy and sleep deprivation than in Comic-Con’s notorious Hall H.

Hall H is an auditorium that is full of 6,500 screaming fans. It’s loud. It’s noisy. It’s emotional. It’s also full of very, very pretty people and crazy trailers and tons of hype. All the news from Hall H is already all over the Internet, so I’m not here to bring you news other than the news that Tom Hiddleston, though present, did not pick me out of the crowd and profess his love, although I’m sure he was thinking about it. What I want to do is let you know what Hall H feels like and why an introvert who hates losing sleep and resents hype (that would be me) would willingly lose a night of sleep, sit next to strangers, be fed hype for hours, and emerge from the hall crazed with joy.

Hall H is all about a collective in-person shared experience of powerful emotion. It provides the same sense of connection and catharsis that a rock concert does. Everyone who attends a rock concert knows that eventually the rock band will release a live album they could listen to without pants or shoes on, and everyone who goes to Hall H knows that the panels and new footage will be all over the web within 24 hours or less.

However, there is no substitute for Being There, because Being There gives us a sense of personal connection with other fans, personal connection with the people we are there to see, and the kind of emotional catharsis that you can only achieve by screaming your head off all day long.

Of course, some of this heightened emotion comes from the fact that if you want to get into the first few panels of the day, you are going to sleep in the line overnight (Hall H does not empty between panels). You will walk into Hall H hungry, sleep deprived, and dirty. You won’t smell too great. You’ll forget to eat. So when the lights go down and the music goes on, you are going to lose your marbles regardless of what you actually came to see.

I was there on the day of the Warner Brothers presentations and when the crowd completely lost their shit over Wonder Woman I actually cried. I wasn’t crying over the movie itself, although it looks fucking fabulous. I was crying because it made me so happy to see how badly people want that movie. The same thing happened during the Marvel presentation when they brought out some of the cast of Black Panther. People want these movies so much, and that makes me thrilled and makes me hopeful that the geek world is moving towards a more inclusive future.

There are many small, intimate panels at Comic-Con that are devoted to thoughtful discussion, and I adore those panels. Hall H is not the place to find them. People have said some deep and insightful and inspiring and moving things at Hall H over the years. I’ve been deeply touched by some of the things I heard. But the point of Hall H is spectacle, not thoughtful conversation. It’s Eddie Redmayne handing out a wand to every single person in the hall and 6,500 people using their wands and the LUMOS MAXIMA spell to turn all the lights on. It’s a fan screaming at Will Smith, “I LOVE YOU” and him yelling, “I love you too! Call me!”

It’s Marvel introducing Doctor Strange with a light show and a smoke machine and trippy footage, and the more pesky aliens from Guardians of the Galaxy 2 running onstage to heckle the cast and the audience to our extreme delight. It’s that moment when the Aliens cast is onstage and Sigourney Weaver and Michael Biehn share a look of such warm affection that the whole world seems suddenly survivable. And it’s the fact that for the most part all these hysterical and exhausted fans who are sitting in close and smelly proximity are trying to be basically good to each other, and maybe making friends, and just being really fucking happy.

After Hall H, there is much excitement as 6,500 people try to get one a trolley at one time, but everyone is pretty good-natured about the crush. You eat vast amounts of food because you forgot to eat all day, and you shower because you qualify as hazardous waste by this time, and you sleep (I gather some people skip all that and party but I am ALL ABOUT the food and shower and sleep). And then you get up and go back to the con (but not Hall H, probably) on Sunday morning, and you can’t find your phone, and your husband can’t find his keys, and your cosplay is hot and uncomfortable and you think, “This was a BAD PLAN,” and then you have a great last day anyway and you blow a bunch of money in the Exhibit Hall and show off your cosplay and feel like a real Comic-Con badass. People say, “What did you do yesterday?” and you reply, diffidently, “Oh, I was in Hall H,” and they say, “Hall H, wow.”

So let’s say you are going to Comic-Con for the first time, and you want to know if you should try for Hall H. My answer is, “Maybe.” Hall H is a huge commitment because not only do you spend a full day in Hall H instead of seeing smaller panels, but you also lose time the day before because if you want to be sure to get in, you have to get in the line the previous afternoon. The panels are usually not deeply insightful, although there are  exceptions to that. They are very focused on marketing. You are entering a hype machine, and in order to do it you must sacrifice food, sleep, and basic hygiene. Logically speaking, it’s a very silly thing to do.

However, there are also rewards to Hall H. They are the same intangible rewards that come with attending any big event in person. So much of fandom exists in virtual spaces, but in Hall H you are personally in a space with other actual people who are all excited about the individuals who you are going to see in person. The line itself can be fun – people game, and share food, and basically try to keep things positive and upbeat. There’s also a group chemistry that makes everything exciting. It’s a high. Some people consider Hall H worthy of bragging rights, although just as many brag about NOT going to Hall H, and I see their point.

I don’t do Hall H every year, but I’m pretty sure that eventually I will do it again. It’s a powerful experience to scream my head off with 6,500 other people in favor of the things I love. It’s strangely pleasing to know that I have breathed the same air as Sigourney Weaver – it makes me feel just a little more badass. And it makes me feel happy that people still crave the physical presence of other people, even when maybe those other people don’t smell that great.

As a romance reader, I believe that relationships and connections are important. Hall H is one way that fans connect to the stars and the stories that they love and one way that fans connect to other fans. So yeah, Hall H, I’ll see you again. Keep my seat warm!

Postscript: I will be happy to answer specific questions about what I saw in Hall H this year, with a couple of caveats. One is that I’m off to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter and then driving home with an exhausted kid, a car full of camping equipment and cosplay, and two bikes. So it might take me a while to get to you.

The other is that, as I told Sarah, “Dammit Jim, I’m a poet, not a journalist!” I saw Jason Momoa, he is large, he said very little.

I saw Zach Snyder, I don’t recall anything he said because I don’t care what Zach Snyder says. So I’ll do my best but probably my response will be: “So pretty…”

I saw the following, if you’re curious about something in particular:

Warner Brothers (Suicide Squad, Justice League, Next Batman, King Arthur, Lego Batman, Kong: Skull Island, Wonder Woman, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them)

Aliens Anniversary

Star Trek Anniversary

Women Who Kick Ass

Marvel (Doctor Strange, Spiderman, Guardians of the Galaxy 2, Black Panther, Thor: Ragnorak)