Do You Know Who I Am?

A prominent creator in the comic book industry recently wrote me a long, frothing-at-the-keyboard e-mail, urging me to help him protest what he seems to think is the greatest miscarriage of justice since O.J. tried on gloves.  Basically, it comes down to the fact that when this creator was at this year's Comic-Con International, a security guard didn't know who he was and treated him like a common attendee.  The convention had closed, the hall was being cleared and this Prominent Creator was asked to move along like a person of no importance.  I wrote the following to him in response…

Sorry…I not only don't think you were wronged, I think you were in the wrong on this one.  The convention center's security folks have no reason to know who you are.  Over the years, I have seen such personnel subject far more important people than you or I to far greater indignities than being treated like an ordinary person.

Many moons ago, I was walking out of NBC when I saw a new gatekeeper stop Dean Martin, who was driving in to tape his weekly TV show, and ask who he was there to see.  Dino was not pissed.  If anything, he was rather amused…and even gentle as he informed the guard of his identity.  It was at most a minor inconvenience to Mr. Martin because, I suppose, he didn't feel he had to prove to some stranger that he was famous.  Some people, I guess, do.