There is nothing more sad then a Geek cut off from the world. No cable, no Internet, only the warm glow of my JVC DTS-Dolby sound region-free DVD player to maintain my sanity. Alas, no one (even your friendly neighborhood Geek) can watch that much Star Trek on disc… Even “Best of Both Worlds” (which is, by the way, the best cliffhanger ever on the small screen). It was starting to feel like high school all over again! Huddled in a dark room…The pale blue glow of my TV… Books and dice sprawled out about the floor…My ass growing at an exponential rate. As any openly Geeky person knows, high school is the worst time of our lives. The teasing and taunting. The sneers and snickers. Most would hide and even deny their dorkness, as I did. That is I did until my 15th birthday…
Lets slingshot around the sun to the year 1991, The Next Generation is one of the highest rated shows on television. Not a month goes by that one or more of the cast members is not on a magazine cover or being interviewed on some brainless celebrity talk show. Paramount, eager to cash in, pushes for more and more conventions. My equally Geeky mom(who has an unhealthy obsession for Godzilla movies), buys me Gold Seat tickets to the up-coming Star Trek convention for my birthday. In case your wondering (assuming you even care) Gold Seat tickets allows me to get the coveted celebrity autographs without standing in line with the common smelly masses. Anyway, I gladly accept the gift and wait for the day.
February 25th arrives. Mom, dad, my friend Kenny (D’oh, I mean Ryan), and myself pile into the van and begin our trek to the metropolis of Reno, Nevada. The convention is being held at the downtown Hilton and not at one of the airport convention centers. Folks who have been to Sci-Fi conventions (and you know who you are) know this to be a big deal! This was to be a two day Trek fest of epic proportions. Attending: Scotty, Sulu, Uhura (ah yea), Data, and the luscious (and panty free) Counselor Troi. I’m in nirvana. I’m buying books, cast photos, props, blueprints, and a pair of Spock ears. This would later prove to
be a huge mistake. Being swept in a wave of Geeky passion I put the ears on. Then I see them. The local channel 6 news crew. As I said, this was a fairly large convention and they smelled a potential story. As I was apparently driven insane by the Ploc-Towe I lock eyes with the reporter. I stride towards him, grinning like a fool. I raise my hand in the “split V” position with ears proudly pointed and yell:
“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAA TREK RULES WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”
I moved along and went back to my convention. The con came to an end. We drove home, the van bursting with Geeky swag. That night I slept well and dreamed of high adventure in the final frontier.
Then came the next day…
See, I didn’t catch the evening news the night before. If I had, I would have called in dead and begged my parents to transfer me back to that Baptist school up the hill. Even that oppressive place would have been better then the fate I was going to face. They started the minute I entered the hall. There was laughter and stares. Shouts of “dork”, “nerd”, and the ever easy red-neck fallback “fag”… I did think “Spock fucker” was clever. Even some of my fellow Geeks (no doubt trying to climb the pecking ladder) chimed in with the taunts. Then something odd happened. I began to notice so called “normals” using terms and gestures that only fans would know. Hell, some were even (mockingly) making the “live long and prosper” gesture, and believe me, that takes some practice to pull off. Well screw those buggers! They knew a little too much to be mocking me!
I went on the offensive. I reveled in my Geekdom. Like Frankenstein’s monster, I would become everything they assumed I was. Looking back it was the greatest thing I could have done. I was free to do as I wished. My Geekiness became a badge of honor. It didn’t matter if I came to school in a kilt, or only spoke Drow with my friends, or did my best Gary Oldman all day long. I was creatively free. Course, these actions killed my love life and forced me to only date theater girls, which we all know turned out to be a very, very good thing.
And now? I’m still living the OG life (?das Original Geeksta’) and those tools from high school are asking my mom is she wants regular or premium gas in her truck. Excellent.