Everyone has a few items in his or her closet that are socially unacceptable to wear. These items sit there on the hangers, collecting dust and waiting for that day when someone finds an excuse to wear them. GooGee Gasdiel has a million of them. Today she straps on a bikini she made out of beads. Then she pulls up a transparent, neon green netting skirt and ties on her neon green leg warmers.
She puts on an uncountable number of bead bracelets with cute words and phrases—“Are you mad, bro?” or “I’m a mongoose!” The only difference is that today people aren’t going to give her weird looks for it. If anything, they might say, “Oh my God, that’s adorable,” or “Can I hug you?”
At Anime Central (ACen), one of the largest anime conventions in the Midwest, people are a bit different. They’re not like you think they are, either. “Anime kids” do not consist of of obnoxious girls who don’t brush their hair and run around screaming, “Kawaii desu desu kawaii desu” down the hallway.
They’re just a little more culturally diverse than the general population. “I really love the people,” said Gasdiel. “I wish that ACen was year round. Everyone’s just super nice. I hate going home, because you go home and everyone’s a jerk again.”
At Anime Central, there are all types of people—whites, blacks, Asians, Hispanics, gays, straights, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders, nerds, preps, Joe-shmoes—you name it. They are so culturally diverse that there are subcategories you’ve never even heard of.
Gasdiel likes to throw herself in the “kandi kid” category. It’s a popular fad inJapanthat consists of rave-goers who make their clothing/accessories entirely out of bright, plastic beads. They trade items made of beads, or “candy,” in exchange for kisses, handshakes, hugs, etc.
Gasdiel could also be called a “furry.” Furries are people who literally dress up like a cat. They wear furry cat ears, cat tails, and fuzzy arm and leg warmers. They’re certainly friendly.
Waiting outside in line for the Saturday night rave at ACen, called the Soap Bubble, Gasdiel talks to people she has never spoken to before as if they have known each other for years. And it’s completely normal.
The line folds back and forth through the building, out the doors, down the block, back again, and around the building. People have to entertain themselves some way or another while they wait, so some walk along the line and high-five everyone. Many people are ambitious enough to hug everyone so they don’t freeze their butts off in their minimal clothing. Nobody questions it.
Farther up the line, a group of people in their mid-20s sings Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” A man is holding a cardboard sign that says “You just lost the game.” A group of girls swings their hips back and forth and dance to “Caramelldansen.” The crowd roars every time the line moves a few feet.
Inside, Gasdiel dances about 20 feet away from the crowd. She’s in a circle with her friends Garett Babler and Ben Wolter, as well as some others who have tagged along. They take turns attempting to shuffle, laughing when they realize they can’t.
She takes it all in—the blaring lights, the bass drop, the furries dancing on the stage. There are four giant screens on each side that read, “Warning: Please do not do anything stupid.”
Looking around the room, a girl blows bubbles, glow sticks are being thrown, and a conga line snakes through the crowd. A man walks up to a young girl and says, “Do you want to see a light show?” His gloves have glowing fingertips, and he twists them around her in a way that leaves her terrified, but mesmerized at the intricate light patterns.
The Soap Bubble ends at about 5 a.m. Gasdiel takes the shuttle back to the Courtyard Marriott and makes it to bed about an hour later. Sunday morning, there isn’t much left to do after they check out of the hotel, except walk through the main hall, which is called the Dealer’s Room.
Here, vendors have set up booths that sell manga books, professional art, rave gear, costumes, stuffed animals, t-shirts, video games, weapons, etc. The Rosemont Convention Center also serves as a 840,000 square foot catwalk for ACen goers to show off their costumes, or “cosplays.”
“Some people go as transformers,” said Gasdiel. “They’re so realistic. I also really like the people who go in huge Sonic costumes and Pokemon.”
Gasdiel buys a tiger suit before it is time to leave. “I just think [ACen] is a cultivation of nice people,” she said. “They don’t judge you on first appearance. You wear a tiger suit to Wal-mart, and people think you’re insane. At ACen, everyone else is dressed just as crazy, so they’re like, ‘Aw, that’s adorable.’”
It’s not just for people who stand out like Gasdiel does. It’s not just for “anime kids” and it’s not just for Narutards, four-eyed introverted girls, and middle aged men who are obsessed with hentai.
Seriously guys; you’re missing out on some hot babes here. “ACen’s kind of for everybody,” said Gasdiel. “A lot of people think it’s only for hardcore anime lovers, but a lot of people go for the raves and find out it’s really cool. I’ve been going for five years and never really had a bad time.”