John Price, a prominent yet enigmatic figure on the HFBoards' "Useless Thread," had always been known for his quirky antics and love of plushies. As a self-proclaimed 400-pound whale of a man with a collection of over 7,300 plushies, John had developed a unique worldview: he genuinely considered his plushies to be sentient beings deserving of the same rights as people.
This worldview led to his latest escapade: booking airplane tickets for each of his beloved plushies so they could join him on a trip to the Plushie Enthusiasts’ Global Convention (PEGCON) in San Diego, California. The convention, a mecca for plushie collectors, promised panels on custom plush-making, workshops on repair and restoration, and even a "Plushies of the World" showcase. For John, it was a must-attend event—not just for him but for his plush family.
The logistics of booking 7,301 airplane tickets (one for himself and one for each plushie) proved to be a monumental task. John spent hours on the phone with airline representatives, passionately explaining that his plushies were individuals who required their own seats. Naturally, the airline staff was baffled, unsure how to categorize the request. “Are these emotional support items?” one agent asked cautiously. “No,” John replied with firm conviction, “They’re my friends and family.”
Eventually, after much debate and the intervention of a bemused supervisor, the airline compromised by offering to allow John to purchase several rows of seats. This solution cost him the equivalent of a down payment on a house, but John was undeterred. "Money is temporary; plushie happiness is eternal," he wrote on HFBoards, earning a mix of admiration, confusion, and mockery from his fellow posters.
John’s plushies were meticulously packed for the journey, each dressed in tiny outfits corresponding to their personalities. His favorite plushie, a rotund panda named Chauncey, wore a miniature tuxedo because, as John explained, “Chauncey has always been a gentleman.” Other plushies sported cosplay costumes in preparation for PEGCON’s cosplay contest, where John was determined to sweep the awards.
As the flight day arrived, John and his plush entourage turned heads at the airport. With several oversized suitcases, each labeled with a plushie's name, John commanded attention. Fellow travelers snapped photos, unsure whether they were witnessing a viral prank or the ultimate display of devotion.
At PEGCON, John was a celebrity. His plushie display, featuring a diorama of a miniature Korean village, earned rave reviews. Attendees marveled at his dedication, though whispers about his unconventional habits circulated in equal measure. For John, however, the judgment of others mattered little. Surrounded by his plushies and fellow enthusiasts, he had found his tribe—one that appreciated his passion for the soft, stuffed beings he held dear.
John's HFBoards post summarizing the experience was as colorful as ever, filled with photos, anecdotes, and a parting thought: “People laugh at me, but I don’t care. Plushies are people too, and PEGCON was the happiest moment of their lives—and mine.”