While in Japan last week, I got an invitation to attend Tokyo Comic Con. When my friends found out, they asked if I’d go in cosplay. First, I was on vacation and, not having attended a Comic Con before, never thought to have a costume handy. Secondly, the original design of the outfit I was inclined to wear was more than 91 kilograms of urethane, bamboo and cotton and required an oxygen tube because it was so hot inside. That would be the Godzilla suit that Toho Co. ordered up for the first of 33 movies starring the king of all monsters. (It was also sprayed in concrete for a striated scaly look.) Eventually, the get-up became lighter, though still not featherweight: The actors playing Godzilla were always terrified of falling face-forward in the giant pond they stomped through for ocean scenes, as the costume could fill up with water and potentially drown them. I said I’d go to the convention in civilian clothing but fantasize about being ... well, having a secret identity.

In any case, you don’t travel to Comic Con in costume in Japan. You need to purchase a special ticket that gives you access to gender-specific changing rooms where you can transform into the superhero or fabulous entity of your fantasies. As long as you don’t expose certain parts of your anatomy, wear underwear (even under a swimsuit) and can’t weaponize your props, you’re fine. The same general rules operate in San Diego, the site of the biggest Comic Con in the U.S. But in California, you can travel to the gathering while dressed as your near-omnipotent alter ego: Just don’t show off by making a flying entrance.

There were certainly enough people in cosplay at the enormous Makuhari Messe convention center in Chiba City, which is an hour by train from Tokyo Station in the center of Japan’s capital. Among them: lots of Deadpools as well as young women (and some men) in variations of French maid costumes; a Santa Vader; a very tall Din Grogu (colloquially known as Baby Yoda); a huge number of characters inspired by anime and manga that I’d never heard of; and a bizarre WrestleMania-like production of weirdly dressed grapplers in obviously choreographed fights.