Dancing Barefoot (7 page)

I have nothing, so I say, “Uh. Does anyone have any questions?”

I honestly expect someone to shout out, “How come you suck?” But nobody says
anything.

I look at the crowd for a second, and I say with a smile, “Well then, I guess we're done
here! Thanks a lot for coming, and have a great rest of the weekend!” I start to walk off
stage, with every intention of continuing down the hall, and into the bar.

After a couple of steps, though, they all laugh. Hard.

What?
That was funny?
Well, I guess after the water crack, pretty
much anything is funny. Okay, I'll take what I can get at this point. I relax a bit and we get
going. I begin to share my Star Trek memories, and the crowd gets involved.

A woman dressed as Doctor Crusher stands up and says, “Say hello to your mother!”

“Okay . . .” I say, and turn to my real mom, Debbie, who is sitting on the opposite side
of the theatre. “Hey mom! Thanks for coming! Do I still suck?”

The whole room turns to find her.

“No. You're doing great, honey,” she says.

“Thanks, mom,” I say.

I call on a cute girl who wears a babydoll “Social Distortion” shirt.

“What was it like to kiss Ashley Judd?” she asks.

I smile broadly. “Come on up here, and I'll show you!”

Huge laugh. She stands up!

“Oh! No! I'm just kidding!” I hold up my hand, and point into my palm, “my ifeway isay
inay the eaterthay!”

I glance at my wife. She's laughing and shaking her head, and she winks at me.

I feel good. They're laughing with me, and having a good time.

I call on an older man, who sits near the front, several bags of collectibles at his
feet.

“Do you have a favorite episode of
Voyager?
” he asks.

“Well, The truth is, I've only watched
Voyager
a couple of times, and
I really don't like it.”

There is a little bit of a gasp.
Did Wesley just say he doesn't like
Voyager?

I try to explain. “The episode was called
Scorpion
, and I watched it
because my friend designed the monster that terrorized the crew for the entire
episode.”

I hear angry sighs. People turn to talk to each other. Some of them leave.

What happened? All I said was that I don't like
Voyager!
What's the
big deal? Lots of Trekkies don't like
Voyager
. Maybe I should have called
it “V'ger.”

A guy waves his hand rather urgently, fingers spread in the Vulcan “Live long and prosper”
salute. I point to him.

“What was your favorite episode of
Deep Space Nine
?”

“Well, the truth is,
DS9
and
Voyager
just never
appealed to me. The stories didn't interest me as much as the stories on
Next
Generation
, or Classic
Trek
,” I say.

Big mistake. This is not what the fans want to hear. They want to hear how I love and care
about these shows as much as they do, because that's exactly what they hear from the other
actors. They get up on stage, and they give the fans exactly what they want.

Well, I don't do that. I tell them what it's truly like for me, warts and all. The truth
is, sometimes being on Star Trek was the greatest thing in the world. Other times, it
completely sucked. And, as blasphemous as this sounds, at the end of the day it was just a
job.

But when all is said and done, I am still a fan at heart. I loved the original series. I
am proud of the work I did on
Next Generation
. I cried when Spock died,
and saw
Star Trek IV
in theaters six times.

I failed to mention all that, however. Without that information, it can piss people off
that I don't have the same unconditional love for Star Trek that they do.

I look at my watch, and I have ten minutes left to fill. I have nothing to lose, so I
reach into my back pocket . . . and find it filled with material.

“I have the limited edition Star Trek Monopoly game.” I say.

“Of course, it's a limited edition of
65 million
. But it's extremely
valuable, because I got a number under 21 million.”

They laugh. It's funny, because it's true.

I go one better. “Plus, it's got a certificate of authenticity signed by Captain
Picard!

“Yes, that's right, my Star Trek Monopoly game, which I've rendered worthless by opening,
comes with a certificate of authenticity signed in ink by a fictional character.”

I see a guy in the front row say something to his buddy, and they both nod their heads and
laugh.

“Cool thing about the game, though, is that there is a Wesley Crusher game piece in it,
and the first time we sat down to play it as a family, Ryan grabbed Wesley and proclaimed, as
only an 11-year-old can, ‘I'm Wil!! I'm Wil!! Nolan!! I'm all-time Wil!! I call it!!'”

I see some people smile. I start to pace the stage. I'm hitting my stride, and the stories
flow out of me.

“One time, when we were renegotiating our contracts, we were all asking for raises.

“We all felt a salary increase was appropriate, because
The Next
Generation
was a hit. It was making gobs of money for Paramount,” (I like that
word –
gobs
) “and we felt that we should share in that bounty.

“Of course, Paramount felt otherwise, so a long and annoying negotiation process
began.

“During that process, the producers' first counteroffer was that, in lieu of a raise, they
would give my
character
a promotion, to lieutenant.”

I pause, and look around. I wrinkle my brow, and gaze upward.

“What? Were they serious?”

A fan hollers, “Yeah! Lieutenant Crusher! Woo!”

I smile back at him.

“My agent asked me what I wanted to do. I told him to call them back and remind them that
Star Trek
is just a television show.”

Okay, that was risky to say. It's pretty much the opposite of just a television show to
these people, but I've gotten the audience back, and they giggle.

“I imagined this phone call to the bank,” I mime a phone, and hold it to my ear. “Hi . . .
Uh, I'm not going to be able to make my house payment this month, but don't worry! I am a
lieutenant
now.” I pause, listening to the voice on the other
end.

“Where? Oh, on the Starship
Enterprise
.”

I pause.

“
Enterprise D
, yeah, the new one. Feel free to drop by Ten Forward
for lunch someday. We'll put it on my officer's tab!”

Laughter, and applause. My time is up, and Dave Scott stands at the foot of the stage,
politely letting me know that it's time for me to go.

The fans see this, and I pretend to not notice him.

“In 2001, startrek.com set up a poll to find out what fans thought the best
Star
Trek
episode of all time was. The competition encompassed all the series. The
nominated episode from Classic
Trek
was
City On The Edge Of
Forever
. The entry for
The Next Generation
was
Best of Both Worlds Part II. DS9
offered
Trials and
Tribble-ations
, and
Voyager
weighed in with
Scorpion II
.”

As I name each show, various groups of people applaud and whistle, erasing any doubt as to
what their favorite show is.

“Now, look. I know that
Star Trek
is just a TV show. Matter of fact,
I'm pretty sure I just said that five minutes ago, but there was no way I was going to let my
show lose. It just wasn't going to happen. Especially not to
Voyager
–
er, V'ger, I mean.”

I pause, and look out at the crowd. I wonder if Mr. “V'ger” is out there.

“So I went into my office, sat at my computer for 72 straight hours, and voted for
TNG
over and over again.

“I didn't eat, and I didn't sleep. I just sat there, stinky in my own filth, clicking and
hitting F5, a Howard Hughes for The Next Generation.

“Some time around the 71st hour, my wife realized that she hadn't seen me in awhile and
started knocking on the door to see what I was doing.

“'Nothing! I'm, uh, working!' I shouted through the door. Click, Click, Click . . .

'I don't believe you! Tell me what you've been doing at the computer for so long!'

“I didn't want her to know what I was doing – I mean, it was terribly embarrassing . . . I
had been sitting there, in crusty pajamas, voting in the
Star Trek
poll
for three days.”

Some people make gagging noises, some people “eeww!” But it's all in good fun. They are
really along for the ride, now. This is cool.

“She jiggled the handle, kicked at the bottom of the door, and it popped open!”

The audience gasps.

“I hurriedly shut down Mozilla, and spun around in my chair.

“'What have you been doing on this computer for three days, Wil?' she said.”

I look out across the audience, and pause dramatically. I lower my voice and
confidentially say, “I was not about to admit the embarrassing truth, so I quickly said, ‘I've
been downloading porn, honey! Gigabytes of porn!'”

I have to stop, because the ballroom rocks with laughter. It's a genuine applause
break!

“She was not amused. ‘Tell me the truth,' she said.

“I sighed, and told her that I'd been stuffing the ballot box in an online
Star
Trek
poll.

“'You are such a dork. I'd have been happier with the porn.'

“I brightened. ‘Really?'

“'No,' she said. She set a plate of cold food on the desk and walked out, muttering
something about nerds.

“I stayed in that office for another ten hours, just to be sure. When my eyes began to
bleed, I finally walked away. It took several weeks of physical therapy before I could walk
correctly again, but it was all worth it.
Best of Both Worlds Part II
won
by a landslide.”

I pause dramatically, and the theatre is silent.

“And it had
nothing
to do with my stuffing the box. It's because
Next Generation
FUCKING RULES!”

I throw my hand into the air, making the “devil horns” salute that adorns my satanic
T-shirt, and the audience leaps to their feet, roaring with applause and laughter.

I can't believe it. I got them back. I say thank you, give the microphone to Dave Scott,
who is now sitting on the stage pointedly checking his watch, and exit, stage left.

I walk down the hallway, and meet my cast.

“Man, they loved you, then they hated you,” Kevin says, “but you made them love you again!
You're good, man.”

“Thanks,” I say, “I think it mostly sucked, but the end was fun. Let's eat, and get ready
for the show. We've got to be in the theatre in 90 minutes.”

We've all performed on the ACME stage many times together, but we've never performed this
lineup of sketches. They've never performed in front of Trekkies before; matter of fact, most
of them don't even watch
Star Trek
, and this convention is their first
experience with the show, and its unique following. The guy who is doing our music and our
lights has never seen our sketch show, or read our scripts. It's just over an hour until our
stage call, and there are far too many uncertainties. I begin to freak out. Somehow, Travis
keeps me under control.

We're all hungry, so we use 50 of our 90 minutes getting some food across the street from
the convention at the Hard Rock Hotel. I order a sandwich, but don't eat a single bite. I'm
way too nervous.

We race back to the convention, and gather in a suite that's being used as our dressing
room. We all clean up, make sure that we have our costumes and props, and run a few of our
scenes. There is genuine excitement in the air. We are in our element: actors preparing to
take the stage.

We are expecting to be let into the theater at 7:30, so we can have a quick run-through of
some blackouts, get our props set, and have five minutes to catch our breath . . . but the
clock says 7:45. The show before us has run long, and we're not even going to get into the
theater until 8:30. The audience has been lined up for over an hour already, and I know from
experience that an audience's willingness to enjoy your show is inversely proportional to the
amount of time you keep them waiting past the time on the ticket, which is, in this case, 8
p.m.