I was exhibiting in Artist’s Alley at Baltimore Comic Con this weekend. Sometime Sunday afternoon, my neighbor, a novelist who was working one of his first comic conventions, suddenly made the realization that his money bag — containing his entire revenue for the weekend, had been stolen. He had set the bag on the table as he was making change for a customer, and, after trying to make change for the next customer, realized that the bag had been lifted.

We tend to get so caught-up in the camaraderie and fellowship of a comic convention that we tend to forget that there are always a few bad apples in every bunch.

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