Dancing Barefoot by Wil Wheaton Page A

turbolift, and the doors close. I remember all the
     times the FX guy didn’t pull the doors open in time, and we’d walk into them. The turbolift
     takes us to the shuttle bay, where we board a flight simulator that looks like one of our
     shuttlecraft. I don’t pay any attention to the voyage home – I am deep in my own memories,
     consumed by thoughts of days gone by and time forever lost.
    The ride comes to an end and we walk back to Quark’s. Everyone we pass wants to know what
     I thought of the ride, if I enjoyed my Star Trek experience. I tell them, truthfully, that it
     was just like being back on the set. I tell them that it’s reminded me how cool Star Trek was.
     I keep the rest to myself. I don’t think I can even give voice to the incredible series of
     emotions I have felt in the past 15 minutes. I don’t even know if, in recalling that
     experience and writing these thoughts down, I have been able to convey how it affected
     me.
    But it did. It changed me.
    Being inside those walls, even though it was in a casino in Las Vegas, I was safe. I was
     protected from the bullshit that had been the focus of my life since I quit the show. When
     that bullshit was washed away, I saw Trek for what it is: a huge part of my life. I will
     probably never be bigger than Trek, but why try to avoid it? Why not love it, embrace it, and
     be proud of it? It was cool. Gene was cool. The cast is cool. Star Trek
     may never be what it once was . . . but I got to be there when it was great.
    We stay at the party for another hour. We talk with friends and I pose for pictures, sign
     a few autographs, and shake some hands. We watch Armin and Max perform a very funny sketch,
     and I have my picture taken with a cardboard stand up of WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER, circa
     1967.
    Finally, the five days in Vegas catch up with us, and Anne and I need to leave. I seek out
     Dave and Jackie Scott and thank them for a great convention. I tell them that I’ll see them in
     a few weeks, never thinking that in just 2 days I will never want to board an airplane
     again.
    We take a cab back to our hotel. Anne puts her head on my shoulder, and is asleep before
     we’re even out of the driveway.
    We drive up a wide and empty street, about a quarter mile off the strip. This part of
     Vegas seems lonely, desolate. The carnival glare of lights along The Strip robs the rest of
     the world of any light, and the whole desert is black, like outer space . . . I stare out the
     window into the darkness, and imagine a starfield that’s fifteen years away.
    I had forgotten how cool Star Trek was and how much I missed it. I feel a little
     sad.
    The cabbie keeps looking at me in the rear view mirror, giving me that ‘I think I know you
     but I’m not sure why’ look. He says, “What brings you to Vegas?”
    â€œStar Trek,” I tell him.
    â€œOh yeah? You a big fan or something?”
    â€œYes I am,” I tell him. “I love Star Trek.”

    ----
    [ 1 ] In 2002, Bill and I played together on a special Star Trek edition of the game show Weakest Link . He was friendly and warm
     toward me the entire time. Several months later, I asked him on Slashdot, “Are we cool, or
     what? I mean, I always thought you didn’t like me, but I had a good time with you at Weakest Link watching the World Series. So are we cool, or was that
     just pre-game strategy?” He replied: “We are so cool, we’re beyond cool. We are in orbit
     man. I don’t do pre-game strategy. I look forward to some personal time with you.”
    [ 2 ] Mike Okuda was the chief graphic designer for The Next
     Generation , and has since worked on all the series and movies. He also wrote
     all the official technical manuals. Along with Rick Sternbach, he is widely regarded as the authority on Star Trek technology.
    [ 3 ] One of the most important elements of sketch comedy is the blackout that ends the
     scene.