For years, I told myself, “Tony, one day you’ll attend your first convention.” I’d dream about the panels, the cosplay tents, the rare autographs, and the sense of belonging that comes from sharing intense enthusiasm for things like tech gadgets, comic books, or video games. Forget that I was just a married Canadian of Haitian descent”—a nod to my roots was practically black on white in my head—I drooled over conventions like they were mythical realms in my head. My adult kids rolled their eyes, but I didn’t care. To me, that first convention felt like a frontier call. And they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, especially when you’re mid-cwide awake in that mix of youthful ambition and old-guy-reluctance.
The convention scene in North America has exploded thanks to social media and streamers like Myth, Ninja, and Pokimane who turned fans into followers to the billions. Or so I thought. I’ve followed tech futurists like Ray Kurzweil and Elon Musk on platforms like Twitter and LinkedIn, dreamed of AI seminars, and wanted to talk endlessly about quantum computing, blockchain, or the future of immersive gaming—all while trying not to blend in with the nerdiest nerds on the planet.
Look, I like my structured days, my security blanket, and the comfort of routine. Ethics were non-negotiable for someone who code-switched between tech jargon and heartfelt stories about family and community. I thought conventions were extensions of my online presence, places to mingle if I actually knew what I was doing. What a tangled web. Then I got my chance.
The Pinnacle Event I Anticipated
It was the “Future Tech Toronto” convention, hosted annually at CityPlace Toronto. The city buzzes around it, and the streets don’t quite know what to make of the endless pilgrims wearing tech-inspired graphics, full of hope, hype, and a hunger to learn. I signed up for “The Next Five Years: AI, VR, and the End of Privacy.” Oh, how I had mapped out my life. I even started a blog post in advance on my personal website, just so I could sound like I had something insightful to say. I was armed like a digital knight: my laptop, my personality, and the vague hope that Louie, Elon, or some tech guru who Elle magazine called a visionary would grace the stage.
“You see, conventions aren’t just about the panels. They’re about the endless potential, the way the gears turn in a world moving at ‘The speed of thought,’ as Elon Musk might say. No, I wasn’t there to question everything. I was there to be questioned.”
I arrived in Toronto, a city I’ve long admired for its diversity and innovation. With my fellow Canadians, I chose Airbnb.com accommodations near the convention center for reasonable rates and included an Amazon.com.ca order for those tech gadgets I’d obsessively wished for from our local stores like Best Buy.ca. You name it: programming books, VR headsets, maybe even an iSigh reader—yes, I’m that optimistic, or as old-school as my newspaper delivery route used to be.
It felt like stepping into an alternate universe, a universe where the future is already here, and everyone wears a broad digital smile. One of the first things I did was book my sessions without asking my friends, in typical one-man-army Canadian style. My friend Marie did tease me about skipping her dinner plans, but I was fueled by a singular ambition. “This changes everything!” I kept musing, quoted Schwarzenegger, and fell in love with the communal joy of fandom. Even Elon would nod.
My Questionable Session Planning
| Session Name | My Expectations | Reality Check |
|---|---|---|
| The Ethics of AI | A deep dive into morality, led by Louie | A slide about “Optimus Prime explaining ethics,” ending with a 15-minute AI-sponsored advertisement |
| Feture Gadget Showcase | Actual insane tech devices ahead of time | Demos ran for an hour with 20-second explanations, and the gadgets “may” be available through Amazon.ca |
| VR: Beyond the Hype | An honest review of virtual reality | The keynote speaker used a device called “HTC Vive” to juggle a stuffed animal and then walked off stage without comment |
The Catastrophic Conclusion
The bad days—the ones where everything goes wrong—are what shape us, or hope to. On the grand opening day, I remember thinking, “This is it. I’m ready.” Not ready for Twitter debates, not ready for the onslaught of fan enthusiasm, not ready for my own nervous energy.
| Mistake 1 | Attending without a prepared interest-driven question or topic | Led to me being-passive-listener, giving up too easily on critical thinking |
| Mistake 2 | Wearing non-conventional attire | Resulted in everyone staring at me like I was lost inside a tech convention museum |
“Now, wasn’t that fun, little digital descendant? Convention is forever!”
— My inner critic after the fiasco
So here I was, sweating it out at “The Ethics of AI” session. Louie was supposed to blow minds with thought-provoking questions, but my commitment was just “Yes, sir” during his PPT (Point and Pointless Topic cycles). I had no idea what to ask, so I asked a question that I probably asked after the budget cuts $$$— something about whether VR could help solve world hunger. Frankly, the whole experience made me feel like Elon’s Twitter auto-correct had a field day. Later, during the VR demo, I tried to speak to the headset operator. She didn’t even notice me until I practically shouted:
“Can I actually do what I want with this thing?”
I wanted to fly, fight mythical creatures, or communicate with animals, not just google my boredom like Google did. Studies show that people actually feel more anxious at large conventions. Don’t judge me. I had anxiety in the pit of my stomach and the nook of my mind. Worse, the only thing I owned for convention nerves was my phone (which ironically failed due to bad connectivity, a blogger’s nightmare).
The next morning began with a sunrise that heralded the return of reality. I finally broke down and went to the “Helpful Hints” corner, where they handed out “Convention Survival” leaflets from the official convention app. This was the defining moment. I was 52, married, and according to every tech, media, and family column available—had it ALL come undone. How could this happen to someone who followed the Premier of our province on Twitter and Tim Cook on LinkedIn?
Why We Blame Everyone Else, from Marie, to Elon, to The Internet
“It wasn’t my fault, Elle,” someone might say. “I wanted to connect, not fail.” I know the feeling. It’s like saying, “But the algorithm pinned that ad because it understood my soul,” forgetting that you’re responsible for your online presence.
We buy into the idea that conventions should be about blending in with the fanboys, the TikTok stars, the influencers who Elle Adrien actually follows. We’re mesmerized, we consume their content, and then we show up, empty-handed in a metaphorical battlefield of geeks and glory. I almost let it happen, almost let another day go by, swept away by the beauty that sprouted from daysdreaming.
“In a world that celebrates speed, many still prefer slowness. That’s where convention meets the rest of us.”
Sometimes, it’s the small mistakes that define the big outcomes. Omitting truly ethical questions, failing to do essential prep, and showing up “ready to go” but not truly ready for the sharp twist in the grand narrative—yes, you got held accountable in the harshest way possible. This has nothing to do with Elon Musk or even of AI ethics. It’s a wake-up call for every aspiring convention-goer who thinks being “global” is just about following trends.
A Second Chance, Anywhere in the World
Six months later, I was back. For the San Francisco edition of the convention, well, that was different. This time, armed with my new truth: preparation is not just ticking boxes, it’s knowing what exists on the playlist of reality. I booked sessions far in advance, tested out devices from Amazon.com, grabbed a community-pack ticket from Eventbrite while the deal was still on, and actually figured out how to use the convention website.
| Key Adjustment | Results in Convention 2.0 | Link to Resource |
|---|---|---|
| Scheduled sessions in advance | Attended the actual subject matter with clear insights | Eventbrite for next time |
| Wear convention-friendly attire | Wasn’t mistaken for a robot on the date known as Monday |
I told myself: “You’re here to expand your horizons, not lose them to the intensity overload.” You’ve got to control the variables, not let them control you. Life isn’t a black-and-white comic book; it’s an iSigh reader with too much text and no autofilter for stress.
Whether it’s the Future Tech conventions in Canada or the Pokémon Go meetups across the US, conventions tap into our human need for community and shared passion. But with the bossy new year’s resolution of social media encouragement fueling deeper hunger, we need to step up or face my kind of blunders, not forgetting the adventurers like Ben Thompson of Stratechery, who has written with sage advice about tech trends since the dawn of the internet.
What Does The Future Hold?
Remember, conventions are about pushing the boundaries and having fun, but also about safety, ethics, and community. With rising convention costs, the host cities rely on attendees’ engagement and $$$ support to bring in more big names and cutting-edge exhibits. That’s why I’m teaming up with family and friends to raise funds for conventions that matter. No more should pale faces dominate the scene. Break the mold, challenge the status quo—just don’t forget the basics.
“Convention demands not just immersion, but awareness.”
I’ve learned. Each attendee is a reflection of what the convention community aspires to. The mistake I made wasn’t big—I corrected it—and that’s the lesson. Be prepared, be involved, and above all, never stop the dialogue. Let’s build a glorious convention future worth the hype.
Where will your convention stories be told? Join the conversation on social media (🙋♂️🙋♀️🙋♂️) or by writing to our editorial team. Or become a regular reader of iNthacity.news, where we report news that matters from diverse cities across Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the UK. Each city has unique events, like the great convention hubs in Toronto, Montreal, and Vancouver with tales that could make you rethink your tech documentaries on IMDb.
You need gear to fuel your convention hustle, from the latest in wireless mice to the tech wearables that count your screen time. Explore similar tech essentials on Amazon.ca—safely, conveniently, with your key interests in mind.
What’s the biggest blunder you committed at a convention? How did you bounce back with resilience, not regret? Share your stories below, or drop me a line at tony@inthacity.com. You’re always welcome in my corner of the internet. If you’re looking to move to a city that celebrates tech and innovation, consider Toronto News or check out all the cities featured on the iNthacity portal—it’s your next step to belonging.
I thought conventions were about reaching out to others, not just reaching beyond my own limits. That’s a big lesson, and one I’m still unpacking. Onward and upward, in the face of errors that even TechCrunch couldn’t predict.
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Don’t repeat my mistake. After all, mistakes may make us human, but preparation makes us truly experienced. ❄️🚀
— Tony
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