A New Approach to the Vendor Floor

(Guest Post by Ken)

This was my fifth year attending FanExpo Dallas and bringing my children with me. They’ve become quite enthusiastic fans of the event each year and ask repeatedly when it will be happening to make sure I still plan on bringing them again.

Some of the reasons for their enthusiasm I understand. They love looking at all the cosplay. They love a lot of the activities sponsored for kids (this year’s new addition that became their favorite was a con-themed magic show). They have even enjoyed some of the panel discussions even if those aren’t always geared towards kids. All of those things make sense to me.

And then there is one part they love that does not compute for me at all: the vendor floor. In case you’ve never been a fan convention, the vendor floor constitutes a shockingly large percentage of the total area of the convention filled with literally hundreds of small merchant booths pressed together on either side of surprisingly narrow walkways. The original sales draw of such conventions was comic book, and there are still many of those. But there are also dozens of other specialties: collectible toys, custom art in many shapes and sizes (and 90% of it having a very questionable relationship with trademark law), trading cards, cosplay accessories, custom dice for tabletop RPGs, and much, much more.

Now, some of my children’s enthusiasm I understand because I have let them make some small purchases so years, so I guess at least some of the thrill comes from dad-sponsored shopping (they’ve also sometimes brought some of their own saved-up cash funds to supplement my meager disbursal). But their excitement for the vendor floor is not purely contained to the thrill of spending, because even after they’ve spent what little they have and I’ve supplied, they would choose to remain among the vendors for hours if I let them. And that’s something I could not understand, but I’m trying.

To me, the vendor floor has always been the number one place to try to avoid. It is loud. It is saturated with products to an overstimulating degree. It is claustrophobically crowded to a degree that gives me anxiety and slows one’s pace to a staggering crawl. Finally, it’s entire purpose is to attempt to sell things to you—and I hate being sold to. I get anxiety when salespeople knock on my door or when I see the internet guy staked out at the store trying to get me to switch. The vendor floor is thousands of square feet of salespeople, which I’m pretty sure must constitute one of Dante’s circles of hell.

Nonetheless, whatever their reason, my kids wanted to walk through and look at all the booths and I allowed it in the name of trying to be a good dad. Was it just as crowded and noisy and overstimulating as ever? Absolutely. But somehow this year I managed to hate it less.

What changed? I think it began as I watched my children spend a solid fifteen minutes just perusing in awe through binders of rare collectible Pokémon cards. Watching the wonder on their faces began to alter my perspective on the whole area to frame is less as an overbearing and bizarre bazaar, and more as a museum of fandom. Even if they knew they weren’t going to purchase anything else, my kids loved seeing so many things related to things they are fans of.

I also now have a co-worker who regularly rents booths at these types of events for his custom 3D prints he creates and I’ve started to get a clearer view into the craftsmanship that goes into the creation of so many things presented on the floor. Some of what he designs on his computer and prints is stunning and amazing and I see many examples among the booths of such great artistry that is worth taking some time to admire.

That said, not all booths represent overwhelmingly admirable craftsmanship to admire and the 3D printed wares are a perfect example—some are filled with originally designed items that can be stunning and unique, while others are stocked to the brim with dime-a-dozen downloaded designs they found on the internet with now effort for the same old 3D printed items that are becoming eye-rollingly common. Another worrying trend is the clear increase in AI-slop products I saw this year, which distract and pull attention from the true great work of the real artists who’ve been selling their talents for years since long before AI started threatening their profitability with cheaper, worse products not requiring the same level of attention or care to create.

Will I still get some anxiety next time I visit the vendor floor at a future con? Absolutely. But hopefully I can emulate my children a bit in also approaching it with a bit more of an eye of wonder for the wonderful things created. And if you find yourself on a vendor floor yourself, perhaps with intent to purchase, I recommend lending your patronage to the real artists and not the AI generated knockoffs threatening their livelihoods.

Oh, and for curious minds wondering what my kids purchased this year: they each purchased a classic comic book (the particular choices were Guardians of the Galaxy, Transformers, and Wonder Woman) and they found a Lego Minifig vendor from whom they purchased several favorite characters for themselves (Gandalf, Galinda from Wicked, and a Minecraft Chicken) plus a Bluey and Bingo for their youngest siblings still too small for me to bring.