A few weeks ago, I attended Indiana Comic-Con in Indianapolis. It was nice to go to a convention as an attendee and not as a vendor (though I’d love to be a vendor there—I just need to produce my own comic book first). I had the privilege of meeting comic book writers Marv Wolfman and Chris Claremont, as well as the actors Ian McDiarmid, Ray Park, John Rhys Davies, and Brent Spiner.

But by far the most impressive celebrity I met at that con was comic book artist/writer George Perez. Ironically, trying to meet him was also the most frustrating part of my trip.

See, there was so much I wanted to do at this convention this year that I opted to attend for two days. My friends and I stayed in a nearby hotel. I’d met Mr. Perez before several years ago the first time I went to this convention. I had him autograph several graphic novels and paid him to make a sketch of Captain America for me. This year I was excited to meet him because I had Break-Thru #1, an obscure comic he drew in the ‘90s, for him to sign, and I planned to play “Stump Perez” by asking him to draw NightMan, one of the characters from that book.

The problem was the convention decided to sell tickets first thing in the morning each day of the convention to fans who wanted to meet him. These “golden ticket” holders would get first priority, even if they left and came back. Since most of them brought whole longboxes of comics for Mr. Perez to sign and asked for a sketch (which took 10-15 minutes to draw), the line moved slower than a snail. Myself, my friend Sergio, and many other fans stood in line for hours on end for two days waiting to see him. On one hand, we were frustrated as heck. On the other hand, we formed a strange bond. I called them “my line brothers.” We all became friends through this strange sort of adversity. Heck, we even came up with this meme as an expression of our frustration. 😛

I’m confident none of this stuff was Mr. Perez’s idea, though, because he came to our line twice on the last day of the con and apologized for what happened. Not only that, he took control of the situation and although he couldn’t make us sketches, he promised that he would get us all autographs on up to five items. I was quick to say, “I think I speak for all of us, George, when I say we all still love you!” Indeed, Mr. Perez’s only sin that convention was that he was too nice.

Closing time came, and after wrapping up a few things, Mr. Perez came to our line—which was at least 25-30 people long—and led us through the vendor hall full of people deconstructing booths. Someone joked that he was the Pied Piper, but I said that he was Moses leading us through the wilderness. “Part the Red Sea for us, George!” I called.

Finally, he led us to the hallway, where we re-formed our line. I was the third or fourth person down. One of Mr. Perez’s assistants came over carrying a chair and asked him if he wanted to sit. Then Mr. Perez said something that solidified my already growing respect for him: “They did not sit, so I will not sit!” Wow!

This is a man who knows how to treat his fans. He knows he wouldn’t be where he is without them. To know that they suffered and waited patiently when they could’ve done other things (and some did give up, by the way), he made sure to do right by them. I’m not sure how many other celebrities would’ve done that.

I hope someday, if I get that popular, to remember what I saw him do that day and emulate it.

Mr. Perez, you are a wonderful man!

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