I spent a few days in Las Vegas last week, and you crawlers were EVERYWHERE.
I’m used to running into the occasional Dungeon Crawler Carl fan out in the wild. Someone recognizes my shirt or thebig-ass DIIIIIIWATTAAAA sticker on my car, we talk about the books for a minute, and go about our day.
Vegas was different.
The security guard checking people into the hotel pool? He was a crawler.
The woman making me an 11 AM Dirty Shirley at Milk? Crawler.
The guy at the gas station who stopped me to talk about my shirt? Also a crawler. He said, “20 years ago, we were the nerds!”
Buddy, we still are (and I wouldn't have it any other way!)
Then I sat down at a poker table and two of the other players were crawlers.
Either there was a secret convention nobody told me about, or we’ve hit the point where you can’t throw a rock in a casino (pro tip: don’t throw rocks in a casino) without hitting someone who’s ride or die for GC, BWR, NW Princess Donut the Queen Anne Chonk.
I spend a lot of time alone in my shop making stickers and other cool shit for people who love the same weird stuff I do. Most days you show up as order numbers and shipping labels, so it was a lot of fun to meet some of you in person.
So thanks to the Vegas crawlers who made my my trip better. And if you ever see a guy in an IWKYM hat out in the wild, come say hi. There’s a decent chance it’s me.
Unless I’m losing at poker. Then give me a minute.
NEW ACHIEVEMENT!
You’re surrounded by nerds.
Reward? The nerds are the reward!
Phil
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