What it was like
You can spot the real ones by how they walk a room. Slow, hands behind the back, scanning a table of collectibles the way other people read a menu. That pace is the entire pleasure of a convention that never got big enough to become a logistics problem.
The fairgrounds fill with comics, costumes, and the specific kind of vendor who will talk to you for twenty minutes about a character nobody else at the table has heard of. Cosplayers pose in the aisles without a handler managing a line. The celebrity guests actually look up. Panels happen in rooms you walk into rather than queue for, and the gaming runs off to one side for anyone who wants to sit down and play instead of shuffle past.
Kern County Fair Grounds, Bakersfield, one hall holding all of it. Send it to the friend who says conventions stopped being fun once they got too crowded.