Comic relief
It’s been a little over a year since I’ve stepped foot inside of a comic book shop.
I can always take comfort in the fact I never came close to prostituting myself for a new comic book. Except for that one time...
While I’ve often had a fascination for comics, I didn’t become an avid collector until I went to college. Before then, I would only buy comics when they caught my eye at the grocery store or bookstore.
As a kid, I was more of a fan of trading cards or action figures. Visiting the local comic book store was a rare occasion — one usually marked by 30 minutes of browsing the quarter bin.
The only book I followed regularly was Wizard, a monthly rag dedicated to providing the latest values for collectable comic books. I bought the magazine more for the juvenile humor scattered through the pages then an actual interest in assigning value to my tiny collection.
In high school I became friends with a group that shared an interest in comic books. This common bond we shared spurred me to increase my own consumption of the medium. I started buying a graphic novel every time I went to the bookstore.
By the time I enrolled in college, my interest in comics had reached a new peak. Because I didn’t have a car my first year of school, I would walk to the comic book store every month to pick up the latest issue of Wizard the week it hit the stands. Eventually I started to feel that if I was going to make the effort to walk five miles to the comic book store, I was going to come away with more then just a single magazine. I eventually started to buy other books that caught my attention. Soon, I was making a point to follow specific titles, buying each new issue as it came out.
I was going to the comic book store two or three times a month.
By the time I got a car my sophomore year, I was making a weekly trip to the comic book store. Now friends with the woman who owned the shop, I went as much for something new to read as I went to talk to the shop’s owner.
At first I only bought a single book a week but on one visit, before I was about to take a trip to San Francisco I decided to buy a handful of books for the plane ride.
That act opened up a proverbial Pandora’s box. Consuming the books with gusto during the trip, I came back and instantly went to buy a new batch of books.
Soon enough, on my weekly trips to the comic book store I was walking away with almost $30 to $40 worth of comic books.
Needless to say I wasn’t making enough money to comfortably support this habit. Because of the amount of books I bought each week, I would often not have enough money to eat well – surviving only on Ramón noodles or dollar cheeseburgers.
As much as I hate to admit it, I even put a sizable dent on my credit cards by pulling out the plastic whenever I didn’t have enough cash to buy my weekly fix.
I guess you can say that I came to the same end that every addict comes to – I hit rock bottom. My personal plummet came when I had two credit cards and a debit card denied as I tried to buy my new supply of books. Although the manager of the comic book store offered to let me take the books home that night and come back the next day to pay, I knew that I wouldn’t have enough money the next day either. I was flat broke and buying comics was the last thing that should be on my mind.
Embarrassed, I went home that day and put some serious thought into how unhealthy my obsession with comics had become. It was then that I realized that I had bought a comic book for the last time.
I still buy the occasional graphic novel but I’m proud to say that my days of plopping $40 down at the comic book store every week are over.
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