My GO Fest Story: New York 2024 - Heat, Ghosting & Belonging

What if the rarest thing you find at GO Fest isn’t a Pokémon but peace?

New York City hadn’t changed, but I had. GO Fest 2024 marked my return, but this time, I did it differently. I stayed in the city, not across the river in New Jersey, which made commuting easier. But more than that, I was intentional. I wasn’t chasing a shiny. I wasn’t chasing Shiny Pokemon or creators. I was trying to reconnect with old guests, with friends, and maybe with a version of myself I’d been too exhausted to notice slipping away.

But if I’m being honest, I had chased creators at first. Even in the city, I was still chasing. I told myself it was networking, that it was part of building something real. But deep down, I just wanted to be seen. I’d been told meeting people in person would help land guests, make me more known, more credible. I wasn’t just chasing clout, I was chasing connection and hoping to prove that my work mattered if they could just see me. That’s why I’d run around all over New York City, hoping to make something happen. But all it did was leave me tired, unheard, and wondering why I was chasing people who never planned to notice me.

"I slept a lot with Lechonk standing watch."

Even when you plan everything right, your body doesn’t always cooperate. By my play day, the humidity clung to me like a second skin. My sleep apnea had left me exhausted before I even arrived. I was drinking water constantly, three full gallons just to stay upright, but it didn’t feel like enough. Shade was rare at Randall Island Park. My phone screen was too bright to see. My shirt, and even the backup I brought, were both soaked through before noon. I skipped the Friday afternoon meetups, not because I didn’t care, but because I physically couldn’t make it.

That walk home? I ran out of water halfway there. I rationed my energy and scouted the map for every pocket of shade I could find. Every block felt longer than the last. And by the time I made it back, I collapsed.

And it wasn’t just physical exhaustion.

"Visited the Nintendo store in New York City."

A few weeks before GO Fest New York City, I was ghosted, again, this time by a major podcast guest. I had prepped, I had planned, I believed I’d done everything right. I thought this time would be different and that professionalism would protect me. But it didn’t. And it reopened wounds I thought I’d already healed, starting with my very first episode, and stretching all the way back through my life.

I’ve always worked hard to belong. In basketball, I practiced my three-point shot just so I wouldn’t get kicked off the court. I hustled for every loose ball and every rebound off the rim. But no matter how accurate I became, no matter how much effort I put forth, I was always passed over for someone taller, someone who just looked like they belonged.

At home, I tried being the perfect son. I kept quiet, I followed the rules, I tried to make sure Mom wouldn’t get angry, I tried to be enough so Dad wouldn’t leave. But Mom still yelled and Dad still left.

At work, I went above and beyond, believing if I just worked hard enough, I’d be valued. But I was still let go, discarded by a company that saw me as replaceable, simply because I didn’t look the part. I wasn’t loud. I didn’t carry that certain presence. So they looked right past me and they made space for someone else.

No amount of effort can meet the standards of people who never saw you as an equal. After being ghosted again, after losing my job, I thought about it. Thought about what it meant to still show up when the world seemed to be telling me not to. But I needed this trip. I needed to remember that trying, even when it doesn’t lead where you hoped still means you showed up.

In those quiet moments, one line from Linkin Park echoed in my head:

“I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter.”

—"In The End" by Linkin Park

And maybe that was the point. I was trying to matter to people who never planned to make room for me.

So I stopped chasing.

"I met Cupcakedex and her wife with other friends."

That weekend, I still wandered through New York. I still looked for moments that might “matter.” But slowly, somewhere between the noise and the heat, I started to let go. I didn’t have to chase. I didn’t have to prove anything. I was allowed to rest, even if I was still figuring out how. I met Cupcakedex and her wife at a bakery. It felt easy, familiar, and joyful like being seen, and being excited to be seen

We talked desserts. We talked life. We didn’t talk about content, we talked like people. We talked like we were already friends.

That memory stays with me.

"I had prior podcast guests sign the movie."

This year, I brought a new Pokémon DVD, Pokémon The Movie 2000, for my podcast guests to sign. It’s become a tradition that means more than I ever expected. Each signature? A moment of mutual recognition. These weren’t just podcast guests, they were people who chose to be part of something together.

I gave out my first Pokémon wristbands too, swirled black and white to represent Necrozma, the featured Pokémon for GO Fest. Everyone loved them. Necrozma was a fitting symbol, split between light and shadow, just like I felt. Burnt out, but still hopeful. Tired, but still trying. That’s how I felt too.

It was my first “merch.” And for the first time, I felt like I was contributing something real. It reminded me that gifts don’t have to be big to be meaningful, only mutual.

"Sweaty, but my heart was full being around these great people."

The most important moment didn’t happen during GO Fest. It happened on a rooftop.

Snacks, drinks, laughter, a cool breeze, finally. My friends and I sat above the city, watching fireworks ripple across the skyline. We talked about life, about Pokemon, about whatever crossed our minds. It was intimate and healing in a way I didn’t know I needed.

I spent so much of my life trying to be invited to other people’s tables. But that night, I was surrounded by people who had already saved me a seat. One of those people was Luis from the Purified Podcast, my roommate for the trip. We shared a bed, swapped stickers and laughed about the chaos of the weekend. I gave him wristbands. He gave me a sticker I still keep on my desk.

"I met DandyintheBronx. I'm not sure how he stays stylish with such intense humidity."

"I met LordDrew360 all the way from Canada."

"I had a chance to meet GrantNAlex. Such amazing people."

I also met people I had met thanks to the podcast like LordDrew360, GrantNAlex, and DandyintheBronx. People who reminded me that shared joy outlasts forced validation. We weren’t talking numbers or reach. We were talking our experiences at GO Fest. We were talking life. We were talking Pokemon. In a city built on noise, that quiet kind of connection stood out. I even chatted with OleJonny1Ball about love, family, and the simple joy of wanting to go home to someone who waits for you. That was love in its purest form.

"Another photo with GO Cast Podcast, this time Chris knowing who I am."

GO Fest itself? The gameplay wasn’t the highlight. The same issues from GO Fest NYC 2023 lingered. Randall’s Island still felt disconnected from the city. The weather made everything worse. I didn’t catch a hundo. I didn’t chase event bonuses. I wasn’t there to grind.

I didn’t come to GO Fest 2024 hoping Pokémon would give me something. I came because I wanted to give myself something. A reset. A reminder.

That even when the city is loud…
Even when you feel small in a crowd…
Even when you’re hurting…

You can still choose joy.
You can still choose rest.
You can still choose you.

Maybe that’s what GO Fest is really about, not the game, but the chance to come back to yourself.

"Wayspotters showing me how to submit illegal Pokestops."

I don’t remember a single Pokémon I caught. But I remember the people, their voices, their warmth, the laughter, the way they stayed.

GO Fest 2024 didn’t give me a shiny or a title and maybe that was okay. It gave me clarity.

“All I know time is a valuable thing.”

—"In The End" by Linkin Park

And this time, I spent it with people who stayed.

Make your own table. Find the ones who want to be there, not the ones who never planned to come

If you're reading this, chances are Pokémon has touched your life too. Maybe it gave you a friend, a goal, a place to belong. I’d love to hear your story.

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💡 Tips for GO Fest First-Timers

• Don’t chase people who aren’t chasing you.

• Pack for the humidity. Seriously.

• Choose the memories that matter.

• Huge recommendations for a water bladder.

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