06 Jul
eSport

I’ve sorta hated Anime Expo for years, and it seems the anime community finally had enough this time


view of anime expo crowd
Image Credit: @seil_vt / X

I am going to vindicate myself here. A few years back, I went to Anime Expo at the Los Angeles Convention Center, stood outside in a brutal, shadeless two-hour line that felt like a mild form of torture, and decided, Yeah, I am good on this forever. It was packed, it was frustrating, and for what? To see the same vendors in the Artist Alley I saw at three other events that same year already?

For a long time, whenever I voiced this, people looked at me like I was a cynical buzzkill who just hated fun. It seemed like it was some accepted factoid that real nerds should be willing to stand in a barely moving, sweaty crowd just to see the same sexualized mousepad with breasts that’s been at every other anime event the past few years.

Well, looks like I was onto something after all.

AX 2026 just wrapped up, and the internet is absolutely melting down because the cracks in the foundation have officially turned into a massive sinkhole. The convention has become an absolute pressure cooker, and attendees are finally admitting out loud what I realized years ago: AX is a logistical dumpster fire.

Here’s a look at some of the tweets from the poor anime fans who suffered through Anime Expo 2026.

The absolute death of personal space

If you check social media right now, it looks less like a fun celebration of fan service and predictable plot points and more like a dispatch from a disaster zone. People are describing the convention floor as a lawless land with “zero line culture,” where crowds just form into massive blobs of shoving and pushing.

At a few points over the weekend, the fire department announced that no more people could enter the convention center (even with tickets) because the event was at capacity. Yes, it was literally a fire hazard. You’d think they’d just, I don’t know, sell fewer tickets after this continued to happen the last few years.

“AX was fun and all, but it was unbearable to stay in the convention center for more than an hour, and it was just so disgustingly hot in and outside, and it kinda stunk, and they had to evacuate the floor I was on. like if there’s some virus here w all got it,” said one attendee.

Some attendees stood up for the Anime Expo, saying that the event was not at capacity, and the Fire Marshall was there due to a bottleneck at the entrance. Others pointed out, however, that the crowds didn’t seem to know “how to walk,” making spaces feel crowded and chaotic. Is that even better?

On Thursday night, there is supposed to be an event called Midnight Mahjong, an after-party of sorts with mahjong. But this was also, of course, way too packed to function properly. It was so overrun with weebs that some attendees reported that the games didn’t even start for an hour or more.

It got so bad this year that some attendees reported security guards and police officers rolling into areas with their hands on their batons and tasers just to manage the sheer volume of human bodies. You know a convention has lost its cozy community vibe when the police presence looks like a riot squad response.

One poor cosplayer even reported that their outfit was permanently ruined in five seconds flat because a dense crowd shoved them into someone handing out random cold spaghetti. Yes, cold spaghetti. That is where we are at.

The tragedy of Artist Alley

For most people, Artist Alley is the actual heart and soul of any convention. It is where you find unique prints, indie charms, and support real creators. But this year, AX management apparently decided that what people really wanted was fewer artists and more corporate bloat.

The convention reportedly cut the number of artist spots down by a massive margin, shoving the remaining creators into the very back of the hall. And what did they put in that prime real estate instead? Pokémon card resellers and Temu shops. People were literally packed like sardines in standstill traffic just trying to reach the actual artists through a labyrinth of weird vendor booths.

Your other option? A free, alternative artist alley setup near Little Tokyo that was entirely outdoors, meaning you could choose between being crushed indoors or slowly roasting under the unforgiving Los Angeles sun. My friend attended the Artist Alley at Little Tokyo and reported back that it was very, very crowded.

But… Looks better than this:

The “normies” have officially broken the system

Anime is not a niche hobby anymore. It is mainstream pop culture, and that shift has brought in a massive wave of casual fans. While inclusivity is great on paper, in practice, it is causing some major friction.

Longtime fans are mourning the days when conventions were a safe haven for introverted otaku to geek out and make friends. Now, it might as well be an indoor Coachella. What’s the word people on TikTok use these days? Larping?

It reminds me of my issue with Pokémon’s regional tournaments. What used to feel like a secret club for competitive card game nerds has turned into a scalping and family fest. That would maybe be fine, but The Pokémon Company clearly can’t handle the influx of new attendees. That’s the same issue with Anime Expo: it seems the organizers haven’t really done anything to support the growth of the anime fandom, leaving it feeling miserable. It’s not truly the “normies’” fault: it’s the management.

This influx of people has completely wrecked the panel experience. This year, hardcore fans who showed up two hours early for highly anticipated screenings, like Kagurabachi, were turned away by the hundreds because the venue blocked off the escalators.

To make matters worse, people were camping out in panel rooms for hours just to save seats for later events, completely ignoring the current presenters. Imagine being a creator on a panel and looking out at a crowd of people who do not care about your work, only to watch them literally throw away your free promotional items because they are just waiting for the next big hype train.

It is disrespectful and a direct result of over-capacity ticket sales.

A $115 Uber ride and $12 onigiri

Even if you somehow managed to survive the convention floor without getting covered in mystery pasta, just getting to and from the venue was an expensive nightmare. The Metro trains were so packed that hundreds of people were left stranded on platforms as completely full trains just sailed past them. If you gave up and tried to call an Uber, you were looking at surge pricing of over $100 just to travel a few miles.

And don’t even get me started on the food. When people are complaining about paying $12 for a single onigiri with a $1.25 dollar upcharge for chili powder, and that item still sells out, you know the ecosystem is broken.

Of course, Los Angeles is expensive. But not that expensive. I can usually get a Lyft from DTLA to LAX for $30-$50. And a famous place in Little Tokyo, Rice & Nori, has onigiri for $2.50 to $5.50. I’ve eaten there plenty of times and it’s quite yummy. These are obviously inflated prices to take advantage of attendees that don’t want to leave the convention area.

At this point, keeping ticket sales open when the physical convention space cannot safely or comfortably accommodate that many people is just greedy. People are officially announcing their “AX retirement” after nearly a decade of attending, realizing they have outgrown the misery.

Said ClaireMax, a popular cosplayer: “When people ask me if I’m going to Anime Expo, my answer is always no unless I’m working or otherwise getting paid to be there. It’s a nightmare con. They don’t cap ticket sales, you’ll spend hours standing in line, outside, in Los Angeles, in July. Once you do get in, you’re packed in like a sweaty sardine – but that’s if you even make it inside because every single year the fire department ends up shutting things down because it gets too dangerously overcrowded, meaning people who paid for tickets can’t get inside. This year that happened at 2:30 pm on Friday.

“This could easily be fixed by putting a cap on ticket sales or moving to a larger venue, but they’re too money-hungry to cap sales, and there really isn’t a larger venue available in LA.”

I hate to say I told you so, but the writing has been on the wall for years. Hopefully, management finally listens before AX 2027 becomes an actual hazard.



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