Confusion is Canon: My Experience at Salt Lake’s FanX 2024
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The hustle and bustle of downtown Salt Lake City collides head-on into a cultural collision of multi-universal proportions. A cosmic wormhole, stretching through the entirety of the Salt Palace Convention Center, opens up wide, and what emptied out was the most beloved/obscured heroes and creatures in all configurations of media, conversing amongst one another like a geeky “meeting of the minds.” The Salt Lake FanX Comic & Pop Culture Convention has ripped a crack in the wall through time and space once again. A cosmic phenomenon of this magnitude can only be experienced on one weekend a year, so missing it completely would be a shame. It takes someone with enough brass-ball gusto and quick-on-their-feet thinking to handle such an event. Plus, a background in galactic combat, occult research, interdimensional travel, and brain-splattering zombie killing would go a long way—looks like I’m on the case!
“This was an expedition of sorts—one not too grounded in reality. We have to play the part of a new persona, whether human or monster, in this timely nerd prom of pretend.”
Walking in, I didn’t know what to expect. The Salt Palace stretches out to 515,000 square feet of exhibit hall space. This may seem like miles of open area, but drop down over a hundred vendor booths in collectibles and artworks, several eateries in various quick-to-go cuisines, and thousands of cosplaying attendees circulating throughout the three days, it can seem quickly cramped. Not to mention the heat rose gradually in my 1930’s reporter getup. With a bleached, stuffed shirt, corduroy trousers with suspenders, a wool Indiana Jones fedora, and a thin flavor-saver mustache, I looked like the bloated corpse of Howard Hughes. This was an expedition of sorts—one not too grounded in reality. We have to play the part of a new persona, whether human or monster, in this timely nerd prom of pretend. All the LARPing and prop-hunting couldn’t prepare me for the horde inside, though, as I descended the escalator shoehorned with three scantily-clad Powerpuff Girls in front and Master Chief elbowing me in the back.
The convention was built on a grid system, which made it as easy as finding directions in the valley. I hit “Artist Alley” first, where an array of fan-pleasing works live. Some works were more noticeable than others, like the screen-printed “Welcome to” posters of famous video game locations or the resin keychains of Disney princesses in ball gags (aren’t some of the ladies supposed to be teenagers…?). One standout was an actual battle bot tournament, tearing and beating the microchips out of each other behind a plexiglass blast shield. However, this would only be outshined by a photo op with a life-sized Appa from Avatar: The Last Airbender. Of course, prices for this ranged from $5-$30, but partial proceeds would be donated to the Make-A-Wish Foundation.
Amongst the festering body odor and crop-dusting brushing off the mushroom cloud of AXE body spray, the true danger comes in the chemical warfare of dollar bills. Those who’ve already spent Benjamins on 3-day passes are expected to fork over green haystack scoops on much more. I alone wasn’t able to leave without nearly handing over a hundred dollars in merchandise. For me, pins and patches burn like hotcakes in my pockets. I bought five jean jacket pins, as well as a heart-shaped patch of one of those worms-on-a-string with a ski mask and a Molotov cocktail. The true gemstones, however, come in the fossilized form of VHS. One was a screening copy of Tank Girl, encased in one of those plastic boxes like a Blockbuster rental. The other is a special sort of cult classic, which I’m saving for a future review. “What about the celebrity panels, though?” I hear you asking. There was an all-star cast of celebrities in the far back corner, but no one I was willing to pay to ask for an autograph. Notable faces like rapper Logic and Matthew Lillard (still waiting for that SLC Punk anniversary interview) stand out above the pimple-faced ocean, but an absolute queen of childhood stood out the most—the beautiful and talented Alyson Court. Most nerds might know her as Claire Redfield from the Resident Evil series. I know her as the quirky Loonette The Clown from Big Comfy Couch. God, that’s a deep cut…
“Yet, there’s a yearning connection to all fans alike here. There’s no other place where grown adults can geek out and have fun like teenagers again.”
As the sun set on the final day of the convention and the last furry retreated from humping my leg, I began wondering if FanX is truly worth the hype and balance. Do I recommend an average body to check it out for themselves? All the sight, sounds, smells, and sore feet from pacing through Deadpool doppelgangers? I would suggest attending one day, at least. I’ve been saying for the last couple of years that downtown Salt Lake is deteriorating into a second Los Angeles with the influx of people, and an adaptation of Comic-Con would drag in more. I also think that the scheme of paying for a convention that’s designed to make attendees pay more money is lunacy. Yet, there’s a yearning connection to all fans alike here. There’s no other place where grown adults can geek out and have fun like teenagers again. It’s almost heartwarming to deviate from the normal workday and be freely creative with all the incredible costumes and artwork. So as I started trailing back to my car, listening to three college kids orchestrate “When You Wish Upon a Star” on violins, all I could do was chuckle a bit and wait to see what happens next year.
Read more of Alton Barnhart’s opinionated features:
A Rundown of Napoleon Fest 2024, You Frickin’ Idiots!
White Knuckled: A Day at Lagoon Amusement Park