I attended an Ozine event (O-zeen? O-zayn? No one I’ve talked to seems to agree…) the year before, but only during the final day. I wanted to get a sense of the entire con this year, so this year I decided to attend all three days of Ozine Fest 2010.

Day 1:

“It’s 100 per ticket, 260 for a three-day pass,” the ticket lady said.

“A three day pass, please.”

“We’re out of three-day passes. Would you like three tickets?”

This was off to a great start, I thought. Immediately through no fault of my own I was down forty pesos more than I should have spent. Oh well, no big deal. “Just the one, please.”

Ozine on a Friday was… spacious. The organizers rented out Megatrade Halls 1 and 2 and with so few people (compared to the crazy contest days where you have to stand toe-to-toe with someone who considers hygiene lower on the hierarchy of needs than having watched every single anime Minorin has ever contributed a song for) I could have actually brought my lightsaber and did some saber spinning tricks without hitting anyone.

Bloody thing’s too heavy to lug around though.

Another thing: if you aren’t in some sort of costume, you are immediately considered a lower caste. This is not to say that you get intentionally treated like second-class citizens. But the difference between walking around in costume and being a regularly-dressed gawker is clear as night and day. I found myself wishing I had a new costume, or at least a vastly-improved version of my previous one. Cosplayers are the center of attention, getting away with anything they pull.

Well, almost anything. There were some cosplayers who went largely unnoticed because either their costumes were too simple, too shoddy, or because the cosplayer himself seemed too creepy to approach. Yes, I said ‘himself’. Female cosplayers always, always had someone approaching them.

Unless they were patently unattractive. In which case elaborate costumes usually compensated. Usually. When they didn’t, I was greeted with a spectacle that was almost too painful to behold: A cosplayer who desperately wanted to call attention to himself/herself but couldn’t break character to do so, surrounded by a crowd busy ooh-ing and aah-ing over someone right next to them. The saddest thing in the world is a cosplayer holding a ‘Free Hug’ sign surrounded by empty space.

Many (but not all) of the shops were in this corner of the con separated from the main flow of traffic. This was an interesting choice that was probably made to ease crowding, since would-be purchasers stand around and gawk when everyone else needs to pass through to get somewhere.

This opinion was not shared by the people running the stalls.

“I keep getting lost,” said Raymond Sison of CSCentral. “They should open up the corner.”

“Hey Raymond,” Mike Abundo said, motioning toward me, “have you met Cliff from Project Otaking yet?”

Raymond looked at me disinterestedly, simply emitted a grunt, turned his back to me, and returned to what he was saying.

Nice to meet you too. Simon says “Have a nice day.”

I walked off to the Waku Waku stall and purchased a yellow PEN’Z GEAR (PROTIP: If the PEN’Z GEAR is yellow, it means the ink is yellow, too. Much confusion under incandescent lights.) and a Peri Peri keychain for my wife, which replicates the sweet sensation of tearing open a mail parcel or a box of Tongari Corn.

My wife spent the next morning ripping imaginary packages open over and over again.

I also bought a pair of aviator goggles from a shop that specializes in all sorts of geeky eyewear, like steampunk goggle’s and Willy Wonka’s shades.

I paid a visit to OtaKai’s figurine exhibit as well, to check out my friend Joey’s glorious Yoko Littner Bounty Hunter PVC figure.

I ran into Kunebitt who was hanging out at her friends’ contacts and wigs stall. Mike was once again applying ‘social lubrication’ as he charmingly puts it.

“Kunebitt is going to be on a live web chat this Tuesday,” Mike informed me.

“Live web chat, ha?” I gave her a sly look and grinned, rubbing my chin.

“Gago ka Cliff,” she shot back. Then she grinned too. “Anong sinabi mo, Kuya Dennis?”

God I hate that guy.

“This is Cliff. He writes Project Otaking,” Mike said, introducing me to Dennis Uy, of the Ozine Uy brothers.

Dennis regarded me as he shook my hand. Once again I couldn’t help notice how much taller everyone else seems compared to me. “Oh. So that’s you,” placing particular emphasis on the last word. My reputation, whatever it is, keeps preceding me.

“Yep, that’s me,” I replied. “Say, I’m having trouble getting a three day pass.”

“Is there any chance we could get Cliff a press pass?” Mike asked.

“We’re having trouble with the IDs. We keep running out of them. Apparently people keep lending them out to friends who never come back,” Dennis said. “You can get a three day pass at the ticket booth.”

“No I can’t,” I said. “They said they were all out.”

“What? How is that possible?” A look of irritation, not the first one all day considering that he was the boss of this huge party, crossed Dennis’ face. “Anyway, we’ll be selling two day passes tomorrow. Will you be coming back?”

“Yeah, with my wife and her niece. I’m supposed to have coffee with Richie dela Merced at some point.”

He shook my hand again before leaving to take care of another minor crisis. “Great. See you then.”

[EDIT: It has been brought to my attention that there are two Dennises in my narrative. No, the Dennis I hate with a vengeance isn't Dennis Uy. Move along. If you want to know who it is, ask someone who knows the inside joke. ]

(to be continued in Day 2 and Day 3)