April 2, 2011
My son, Isamu, was 6, and he loved the Flash. He had watched
his super-speed exploits on my DVDs of the 1990s live-action series and my video taped recordings of the Justice
League and Justice League Unlimited animated series. So when I had planned to
take Isamu to his first WonderCon, which was the last year it was in San
Francisco, Namiko bought him a Flash
t-shirt to wear. Isamu beamed with pride as he wore it, and he would wave or high-five
or fist-bump a few other kids (of various ages) who wore a similar shirt on the
show floor.
I was leading Isamu by the hand to one of the vendor booths showcasing
vintage toys, and the 30-something-year-old seller there admired Isamu’s shirt
and asked him who his favorite Flash was.
I could tell by the way he looked at me that Isamu did not
understand the question. At the time, in his eyes and mind, the Flashes he had
seen in both television shows were essentially the same character. He thought
they just looked different because one was a cartoon and one was live action.
He did not know that there was more than one.
The 30-something-year-old seller then said, “I bet it’s
Wally West. Amirite?”
Isamu turned to me and asked softly, “Who is Wally West?”
The 30-something-year-old seller suddenly became personally
offended. He raised his voice as he asked my son. “You don’t know who Wally
West is?! Wally West is the greatest Flash ever! How can you be a Flash fan if
you don’t…?!”
I suddenly raised my voice to the seller. “Don’t you dare talk to my son like that!”
Isamu gripped my hand tighter. He no doubt thought he was in
trouble, even though he would not understand why. I could see he was on the
verge of tears.
I lowered my voice to the man. “So you consider yourself a
Flash fan, do you?”
The 30-something-year-old seller smirked at me. “Yep. Twenty
years now.”
“And how did you first know about the Flash?”
“The TV show. But then I read the comics, they were…”
I held up my free hand. “Stop. The TV show. The 1990 TV show
with John Wesley Shipp, yes?”
“Of course.”
“My son watched that same show… on DVD. That’s why he likes the Flash. And I take it that show
is why you liked the Flash as well. Otherwise you would not have bought the
comic book… am I right?”
“You bet.”
“So how much did you know about Wally West when you first liked
the Flash?”
“When I read the comic, I…”
“That was not my question. You liked the Flash because of the
TV show. How much did you know about Wally West when you first watched the
show?”
The 30-something-year-old seller looked at me like I had asked a
stupid question. “Zero. Duh,” he sneered.
“So you…. dare… castigate my son… for not knowing
about Wally West when you yourself knew
nothing about him when you became a ‘Flash
fan’?” I could barely restrain my anger at both his behavior and his hypocrisy.
That gave the 30-something-year-old seller pause. But only for
a second or two. The man then furrowed his brow, as if we was about to make a retort,
when…
“Is everything all right here?”
Up walked a 50-something-year-old seller, whom I immediately
surmised had been the actual owner, or at least the top man, of the vintage toy
booth -- and must had just came back from a break.
“No,” I said softly. “But that is okay. There are plenty of
people here who understand that being a fan
simply means that you like something.”
I then smiled at my son, despite my pain from seeing that an actual tear had
rolled down his check. “Let’s go, Flash-fan.”
And we walked away. And through the din of the crowded show floor, I could hear a little bit of the 50-something-year-old
seller's faint reprimands to the 30-something-year-old seller for losing a potential
customer...
