Girls Just Want to Have Fun - A 51-Year-Old's Solo Journey to SDCC

Last summer, we took the family to Disney and spent thousands of dollars on fast passes. Didn't even think twice about it.

That's how much I hate waiting in line.

I took my teenager to the DMV a few weeks ago and asked the clerk behind the counter if they could institute a similar program; she was not amused.

I genuinely thought it was a good idea, more money to fix roads, pay staff, and all that.

But early on, I developed a deep distaste for crowds, lines, and standing in one place for more than 4 minutes.

Which meant that by the time I had money for the experiences of my generation (the camp-on-the-sidewalk, sleep-in-line-for-rock-concert-tickets experience), I had no desire for them.

I've been to concerts, but I've never done that to get to them.

So what I'm about to get into will sound wildly out of character, because it is.

In a few days, I'm traveling to San Diego Comic-Con, and I want a great seat in Hall H on Marvel Day.

In normal person terms, that's like saying, "I want to go to the Super Bowl, but only pay twenty bucks and ride to the stadium with the team and eat for free all day."

I’ve spent months obsessing over hotels, clothes, line groups, weather, and a whole bunch of ‘didn’t know I needed this’ items… like, a travel camp chair.

The competition to get into this one space is far more intense than I ever imagined.

It makes sense, though; Hall H is where Marvel (and other franchises, of course) unveils its biggest surprises: new movies, first footage, surprise cast appearances, and generally things that fans end up talking about for years.

So on impulse, not even expecting a reply, I reached out to a random stranger, on Reddit, of all places, to ask about the line group he’d mentioned in a post.

That very kind stranger added me to their Discord (much to my daughter’s amusement), and very quickly I understood that this was a community, not just everyone jockeying for position in the Nerd Hunger Games.

Seriously, we’re discussing meetups and supplies and shift schedules like we’re planning a covert military operation.

We have a spreadsheet, and color-coded wristbands will be involved.

Yes, it is that deep.

All of this and more, just to be in a room to see things we'll probably see on TikTok 10 minutes after they happen.

Which sounds completely, irrationally insane until you see what it's actually like to be in that room.

I nearly fell out of my chair when I first saw this in 2024 (No skipping ahead. Yes, I see the irony coming from me. Watch anyway):

Exactly as I said, I saw it maybe ten minutes after it occurred, and it sparked a feeling I've been chasing since a sold-out theater night in 2019.

Strangers high-fiving and a whole theater losing its collective mind as one.

You can watch it on TikTok and YouTube, but you can't feel it there.

Now, let me make it clear that this isn't wholly about being in the same room as A-listers.

(Yes, I'm aware there's a good chance some of the cast may be there. My husband is also aware - we've bantered about it quite a bit. But nothing is guaranteed.)

No, this is about what happened before and since the day the MCU died.

 My daughter watched her first superhero movie, Iron Man, at eight years old, sitting next to me. Then, at nineteen, she was next to me when Tony Stark died in Endgame.

Twelve years of inside jokes, favorite lines, dissecting character intentions and feelings...it was our thing.

Then that big reveal at SDCC 2024 happened, my daughter and I were texting in all caps, and suddenly, the thing that was over became something new.

That's why I'm flying to SDCC and jumping through the Hall H hoops. For a new, fun thing to have with her.

That being said, I'm also doing this for me.

I've spent the last three years in a caregiving rut, serving as the household's communications hub while trying to get back to my career, and I've lost touch with my own nonsensical interests.

Make no mistake, I get a lot of help in my day; I'm not doing any of this on my own. But I've gotten really good at planning every facet of the collective day, with schedules and sports and carpools and work and practical things and logistics and on and on and on.

This one decision isn't practical at all - which is exactly why I'm compelled to do the most out-of-character, out-of-my-comfort-zone thing I could do this time around.

All this (gestures wildly).

Everyone needs something whimsical, fun, and wonderfully nonsensical in life.
Even someone like me.

Especially someone like me.

I don't care if you roll your eyes at me, a 51-year-old woman participating in organizing line schedules over a superhero movie - the power of great stories can compel us to do some pretty interesting things.

My husband, The Balkan Storm, was a kid in his mother's house when Star Trek was the big thing, and he saw how Captain Kirk led his crew. He picked up on his logic and courage and decided that's how it's done.

So he developed a leadership style off a starship captain (minus the womanizing, thank God), and it definitely worked. He's built a sterling career running operations the way Kirk ran the Enterprise.

Nobody sees that as 'fandom'; they call him a great boss.

When I was a young girl, my mother played show tunes and introduced me to musicals. I lost myself in them and learned that nothing is guaranteed, and that a good mental escape can get you through almost anything.

I introduced superheroes to my daughter to offer fun examples of traits to aspire to. Not superpowers, but things like selflessness, courage, and ethics.

Three generations of women inspiring the next with what heroes really offer: hope for a better world.

And also to watch bad guys epically get their asses kicked.

(C'mon, I'm only human.)

There are no fast passes for Hall H (damn it). So here I am, the woman who 'invested' in fast passes to avoid lines, spending a day of my vacation, willingly, at my age, waiting in line among thousands in a tiny folding chair.

It will be equal parts fun and a huge pain in the ass.

But I get it now - that anticipation is part of the experience, the slow build-up to what might happen next. I skipped it all in my twenties and fast-passed all the lines in my thirties and forties.

So, screw it. Why not?

I am stupidly excited despite knowing what I'm about to get into, two thousand miles from home, doing something my sensible, practical self never would've considered.

And I think maybe that's something I've been missing, that feeling that fun things are still ahead for me.

Whatever your idea of 'fun things' is - concerts, road trips, marathons, beach vacations, dinner with old friends - I hope you're still prioritizing things that aren't productive but just as worthwhile.

I still hate waiting, though, so if the organizers of SDCC ever decide to start selling Lightning Lanes, all bets are off.

Heather Papovich is the voice behind Unfinished Business. She's seen some things. She'll tell you about them.