turbolift, and the doors close. I remember all the
times the FX guy didnât pull the doors open in time, and weâd 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 donât pay any attention to the voyage home â 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 Quarkâs. 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 itâs reminded me how cool Star Trek was.
I keep the rest to myself. I donât think I can even give voice to the incredible series of
emotions I have felt in the past 15 minutes. I donât 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 Iâll 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
weâre 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 thatâs 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 âI think I know you
but Iâm not sure whyâ look. He says, âWhat brings you to Vegas?â
âStar Trek,â I tell him.
âOh yeah? You a big fan or something?â
âYes I am,â I tell him. âI love Star Trek.â
----
[ 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, âAre we cool, or
what? I mean, I always thought you didnât 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?â He replied: âWe are so cool, weâre beyond cool. We are in orbit
man. I donât do pre-game strategy. I look forward to some personal time with you.â
[ 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.