Marvel Universe Live!
We hadn't been inside the American Airlines Center for five minutes when the marketing machine snared my six-year-old nephew in their trap of flashing lights, loud noises and wallet-depleting merchandise. And, with a deep sigh of resignation I accepted that I wasn't getting out of this one, as every parent, guardian and bearded writer-uncle was ponying up cash for soon to be tossed away toys in solemn solidarity for the social contract we had inadvertently agreed to by attending the Marvel Universe Live! event. The contract? Well it was the promise to not be "that asshole." You know, the one who didn't buy the toy and caused the kid to cry, thus spiking the punch bowl of joy with sadness that would eventually creep throughout the arena and ruin everyone's night.