Strangers at a Strange Convention

It was business as unusual over the Labor Day weekend at Golden Hall and the Omni Hotel as sci-fi fans beamed in in all their eccentric glory.

In case you were out of town or off the planet, the North American Science Fiction Convention began Thursday and ended Monday, providing a place for 2,000 science fiction fans to get together and discuss (in great detail and at all hours of the night) their love of Japanese animation, Celtic myths, Batman, computer games and, of course, “Star Trek” in all its permutations.

The piece de resistance , however, had to be the Saturday masquerade at the Civic Theatre, where 500 or so of the conventioneers cheered and applauded appreciatively the pluck and imagination of the 24 entrants.

The craftsmanship of the costumes ranged from spectacular construction and detail to the relatively straightforward and simple.

In the simple and clever presentation, “The Duct Tape Mummy and his Fashion-Conscious Sister, Sticky” were Craig Kozeluh, 12, and his sister Carla, 9, of Santee. Craig came up with the idea of wrapping a great deal of duct tape around himself mummy style, with Carla sporting a skirt made of bands of yellow and red tape.

In the more complicated and involved category, there was the 18th-Century group that looked as though it had just stepped out of a Watteau painting. Maryeileen McKersie, Kit Townsend, Gail Wolfenden-Steib and William Law were a symphony of ribbon and satin, white faces, wigs, lace and coquettishly used fans.

Other entrants included a group re-creating a rescue from the film “Aliens II” and two Klingons from the “Star Trek” movies. All of the costumes were handmade.

And you thought Mardi Gras was colorful.

But the parade wasn’t over when the curtain fell at the Civic. More costumes came out of hotel rooms and mingled with the “normal” people. Some strolled across Broadway to the amazement of people on the street.

Elizabethan ladies in Renaissance finery, English peasants, members of “Starfleet (the Next Generation),” pointy-eared elves and others could be seen promenading down the halls in search of parties, or rock ‘n’ rolling in one of the ballrooms.

These fans of the fantastic--though frequently perceived as slaves to blockbuster films and television--are primarily hoarders of the printed word. They are happy spending hours poring over the latest publications and books from their favorite writers, as well as searching for that one vintage Robert A. Heinlein novel to complete their collection.

Science fiction fans court and cherish the colorful and the exhibitionist, the awkward and the lonely.

Scott Schmitz of San Diego, who enters data for a living, sees this as a plus.

“There are lots of people who find conventions liberating because they’re among like-minded people,” he said. “They are socially awkward and bookish, and they feel more comfortable here. This is also a place for intellectual stimulation, a real marketplace for ideas.”

John Tripp and his wife, Sheila, of San Diego came to the convention out of curiosity.

“I’ve been reading science fiction for years,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve come to a place where I could see science fiction writers and listen to them talk.”

Sheila agreed, adding: “I’m also overwhelmed by the myriad of books and things for sale and the fact that people don’t mind walking in public in costumes. I admire that.”

Hugo and Nebula award-winning author Samuel (Chip) Delany (“Dhalgren,” “Babel-17”) was the convention’s official guest of honor. At a talk Saturday, he called science fiction fandom a healthy phenomenon.

“I talk to writers in other fields who don’t believe me,” he said. “They aren’t used to audiences being real, outside the odd college reading. The reader-writer relationship in science fiction is the healthiest thing about fandom.”

Business is also healthy. The dealer’s room at Golden Hall provided new and used goods to part the willing from a goodly amount of their cash.

The wares included swords, useful for wielding against dragons or barbarians; crystals for gazing into or wearing; “Star Trek” phasers; photos of Mel Gibson; comics; jewelry and books--old, new, rare and dog-eared.

Besides books, two of the most popular items are T-shirts and badges. These identify one’s loyalties and interestes clearly and easily: “The lunatic fringe begins here.” “Teacher from the Black Lagoon.” “Reality is for those who can’t handle science fiction.”

An art show displayed galaxies portrayed through a multitude of techniques: watercolors of princes and unicorns, sculptures of dragons and oil and acrylic paintings of space and space ships. Prices ranged from a few dollars for cartoons based on popular TV shows to hundreds of dollars for original book cover art.

Panel discussions provided forums for authors, publishers and editors to reveal an inside view of their professions. The panels were also a sounding board for topics such as weapons, space travel, science fiction on television, even previous conventions.

One panel carried a title that couldn’t be ignored. The session included an author and book editor describing unusual forms of revenge in the publishing world, and a Cal Tech scientist who described how to simulate Jell-O.

The panel’s name? “Jell-O and the Uses of Terrorism.”

Beam me up, Scotty.