Dangers of Pen Shows

Or why I spent my weekly wage in a single day and how you can avoid it

Short answer: you can’t.

Long answer: you still can’t but you can feel good about it.

I first got into fountain pens in second grade; it was love at first smear of ink on the page. It is (was) commonplace in (some) European countries that a young padawan learns to use a fountain pen during their first few years of formal education. For me, it happened in second grade; I remember receiving a cheapie fountain pen and the most generic blue cartridges, and subsequently falling in love with the underside of the nib (also known as feed), as well as the look of ink pooled on the page. For my 8-year-old self, it was the most magical instrument ever made. I got to fiddle with cartridges in different colors, albeit I was only allowed to use blue ink (sometimes green, oddly enough) in school; I got to feel like a grown up without having to pay bills and take care of a fur baby.

I still have that pen. I went back for it to my home country after having moved to the US. It still works. I don’t use it much, but it does work.

In third grade, however, the teacher stopped enforcing the fountain pen as the primary writing tool. We were then instructed to use pencils (I used a Staedler mechanical pencil until someone stole it), specifically in math classes because, let’s face it, no one can do math without having to make corrections. Corrective tape wasn’t a thing in a 20th century hellhole of a country (and I mean that lovingly). The eraser was my favorite writing buddy, but I also hated how pencil lead was never as dark as I wanted it to be. Meaning, even though I loved writing, I hated the experience itself.

I briefly dated used rollerballs in high school and university, but that also didn’t cut it. Blue blue blue. Always the same liquid blue ink. Sure, it does the job, but it also gets boring after a while.

And then… I met the Pilot Metropolitan.

I blame Brian Goulet for my subsequent credit card debt. My idea of a graduation gift (and I assume most boomers’ idea, although I am still 27 and have never been a boomer) for myself was to obtain a fountain pen. Without much research and with limited array of available pens, I opted for a Senator pen (with a medium no. 5 Schmidt nib that sang on the page) that I never learned the model name of. And, as it just so happened, I felt like something was missing. As any regular overachiever with more interests than talents, I turned to YouTube; several fountain pen 101s later, I was so deep in the rabbit hole I had to rewind the white rabbit’s pocket watch more than once.

That was in 2016. It is now 2023, and I just came back from the Orlando Pen show with my 120th fountain pen, not including the cheapie from my second grade. My tastes in pens evolved, of course. This time around, I started with all of them beginner fountain pens: three Metros, a Preppy, an Eco, an Ahab; got my first grail pen (what was yours, dear banana consumer, and why was it also the Vanishing Point?), got a 580, and a 580 mini AL, and a 580AL, and a 580ALR, and then I found out that an ex coworker also liked pens so I got some Jinhaos and Moonman (Moonman?) and Wing Sungs, and then I penabled another coworker. I had a PENBBS phase (and I recently received my latest one, the long tail). I had a phase in which I didn’t buy that many pens. I also got into other Pilot pens with gold nibs, and explored different grinds, and then started obsessing over Sailor gold nibs and as of 2023, I guess I am also into small pen makers’ pens. No budget limit works for me; I won’t buy a $400 fountain pen every day, but I will buy several that are a bit more affordable and believe I just found a good deal.

The reason I’m saying all of this is not to convince myself it is perfectly fine that I spent more money on pens in one day than what I spend on food in a month and on shoes in a lifetime (I really don’t care about footwear). Hell, I’m not even saying this because I am sure that the two people who might read this ramble will also have a villain origin story like mine.

The unavoidable overspending at a pen show is just a natural progression from the elation you felt once the first stroke of a pen didn’t hurt your hand; from the joy at the sight of the first line of ink pooling before your eyes prior to soaking into the page and settling on a color that is not just dull blue; the pure realization that a non utilitarian instrument just proved to satisfy an unnamable need you hadn’t known you had. There is an inherent understanding that us fountain pen addicts enthusiasts belong to a l'art pour l’art camaraderie of strangers who, instead of a secret handshake, recognize each other by ink stained fingers and bulky pen cases. And if anyone would understand the plight of having to use a ballpoint or not being able to hold a conversation that doesn’t revolve around pens, it will be another pen enthusiast.

So, the longest answer: there should be no guilt about overspending at a pen show because there are just few things in life as important as realizing that you were finally allowed to let your inner baby fountain pen lover live their best life. Finding beauty in a world that is becoming less welcoming with every passing day is a rare feat — and it should be cherished, nurtured, and allowed to grow.

Not many people get to experience joy in something as small as a fountain pen (I guess size is relevant — looking at you, Namiki Emperor), and at this day and age, anything that brings out your inner child and childlike wonder, is well worth every dollar spent.

You came home with some amazing pens, got to write with them, and about them.

I can’t think of anything less perfect than that.

To be (hopefully) continued.