Booze, blood and glory. My anecdotal prediction of the weekend turned out more accurate than I had anticipated. God favors the intoxicated.

Followed Kurt the first night- soon we’re both following the pink elephant. We land at the pre con party in time to double our alcohol for the dollar. God favors the frugal.

The next day I wake up drunk. I have a hard time stopping the world from changing the steadiness of the horizon, so I breathe deep inhaling last night’s dinner someone was unsuccessful in keeping in their stomach. My OCD heaves, my stomach holds the line. We have a great breakfast and all is well. On to the con. God favors the steadfast.

We meet up with the lumberjack of NJ and my namesake Scott St Pierre le frog. He joins the cause of making a film and wipes his mouth with my script. He says he likes the taste. I may have a man crush on this bastard. Kurt is bummed that Grant Morrison can’t make it, though we’re at a geek fest and among friends. He seems to shrug it off the same way Ferrigno would shrug of any conventional attacks by yours truly. We meet up with Jason Baroody, Chris Burnham, Khoi, Reilly; I see guys I have missed the past few years, and my heart is uplifted. God favors the friendly.

To my delight night falls and we’re off to meet back up with the bottle of J.B. I bought the night before from a corner liquor store in the lower east side. It was the least expensive, but it still treats me well. I tease it a bit by having only a few shots before I head out into the night. The less time I spend with it the better friends we’ll be. I remember losing a great relationship I once shared with tequila due to us spending too much time together. I won’t lose my relationship with whiskey; I’m running out of friends. We eat and meet up with Reilly at a party at some oyster joint; my stomach reminds me of my true feelings on seafood yet maintains its honor by once again holding the line. I forget my unease as I catch a glimmer of something in the crowd. It is the reflection of one of the ceiling lights in the eye of a beautifully framed auburn pupil. She stops New York. I can’t understand how I’m the only one in the room looking at her. I’m jostled by someone in a rush to get to the bathroom and when I attempt to recover my view I see the tail end of her jet black hair disappear towards the exit. I’m happy to have had what we did; she stopped New York for me. God favors the appreciative.

I catch up with Greg Horn and we hastily cover the past 2 years of being strangers. He’s doing well and encourages me, though I am no longer one who needs encouragement. The drinks kick in a bit and I seem to be next to Joe Quesada and J Palmiotti. I heard Palmiotti speak earlier in the day and thought him a friendly and comical guy, though that alone is no reason for me to interject and say hi. I have no ambition to get in to comics and he seems to be all set with aspiring film makers. Plus this way he’ll stay a nice guy. I meet a guy who is friends with Greg Horn- a nice guy. His name is Brandon. Greg, Brandon and I find safe haven at the end of the bar and we laugh. Brandon publishes children books and fights MMA. An odd pairing, though I understand children can raise one’s blood pressure. God favors the patient.

I have another drink posthumously as my buzz has crept off into the night and left me alone with my new friends. The booze helps me make new friends, and it appears to no longer be needed for this evening. Brandon introduces me to one of his writers. I turn to the pair of eyes that stopped New York. They still work; New York gets irritated. She accidentally smacks Brandon in the face as she gestures with her arms adding color to a story. Later she would hit one of the marvel editors; same gesture, different story. I attempt to be as charming as possible with the distraction of butterflies in my stomach, she laughs a lot. I relax. God favors the light hearted.

Greg, Brandon and Melissa- my auburn eyed time lord, wrap up the night and head out. I’m too nervous to ask for Melissa’s number. I’m a coward. With luck Brandon gives me his card and her web site. A glimmer of hope to match a glimmer in an eye. God favors the hopeless.

The night wraps up and we head back to Kurt’s for much needed sleep. God favors the weary.

The next day we meet up with Kurt’s wonderful squeeze. She’s easy to get along with and embraces the hetero love Kurt and I share. We again hit breakfast and I spend the day dipping through foam swords, plastic guns and anime characters. I’m thinking of submitting a con clothing requirement for those who are underage. I should start with the face and work down; it will help stop the accidental underage fangirl ogling. I decide to keep my eyes and head down and bumper car my way to each destination. I aim for the heavyset, for they seem to be a more forgiving collision. I’m not a fan of panels though I decide to attend an independent TV one. It changes my plan. I’m foaming at the mouth to leave so I can write. I have new direction and the rest of the day is gravy. Alex Robinson gives me his blessing and allows me to use his likeness and work in my movie. I assure him he he will not be portrayed as an axe murderer. Today was amazing despite my knowing that Melissa would not be there. Night falls, JB is waiting. Tonight I almost finish the rest of the bottle. I throw caution to the wind and rationalize that if my friendship with JB can’t survive quality time then what do we really have? God favors the foolhardy.

Kurt, Lauren and I hit up another Marvel party at some Irish pub. I talk to a nice enough girl with pink hair, insult some people that needed insulting (sorry Reilly and Kurt but those guys had it coming and I’ll make it up to you), console Kurt when he freaked (you’re welcome Kurt), and made out with a pretty girl in front of a camera (not Melissa). I assure Kurt I am well enough to find a way back to his house and I head out into New York. I will speed this up so you all can find out that I would not run into Melissa again, and head home with that as my one regret. God favors the hopeful.

I find a Mcdonalds and get some food. I have not darkened their doorstep in years and for a punishment I bite through my tongue. The alcohol is a great painkiller and I don’t realize the extent of the injury until I question why there’s so much ketchup on my cheeseburger and why it’s so liquidy. I leave a puddle of blood on the table and stumble out into Times Square. A taxi picks me up. I have no idea where Kurt lives but remember writing it down on the paper I got from the girl who I was kissing. I realize I got a number. He finds where I’m supposed to be and keeps the paper with the address and her phone number as a tip. Fuck. God favors Taxi Drivers.

Sunday goes by as drunk as the previous day and I wrap up a wonderful weekend with great friends. I want to fast forward to the next con and the next Melissa. In the mean time I will make a few films and maybe become famous. Who knows, I hear God Favors the ambitious.