The Convention

Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Star Ship Enterprise, its five year mission to seek out strange new worlds and new civilizations and to boldly go where no one has gone before.

I’ve always enjoyed Star Trek – whether its the first series with Captain James T. Kirk or the Next Generation series with Captain Jean Luc Picard at the helm of the USS Enterprise.

Call me a closet trekkie. But I do draw the line at certain behaviours like dressing up as a Star Trek character and hunting down the actors at a Star Trek Convention. Yes they are actors, they aren’t real – there is no USS Enterprise and we are not in the 25th century. But tell a trekkie that.

I have a confession to make though. I did go to a Star Trek Convention once, it was an eye opener.

Encouraged by some of my friends who happen to have just about every Star Trek character’s signed photographs in their possession, we headed off to the Convention.

My first stop was the washroom. Do you know how many Dr. Beverly Crushers were combing their hair. For those of you who are not trekkies - she is the good doctor in the New Generation series who is able to fix all ills in humans and androids alike. Her lookalikes adjusted their long flowing red wigs and stroked the creases from their medical uniforms leaving me with my mouth open.

The reason I like Star Trek is because its premise is full of hope for the future and the notion of the prime directive - not to interfere or influence the outcome of any situation they may get involved in.

As with all good stories, there are the bad guys. The Klingons, the Ferenghi, the Cardacians, the Romulans and most feared of all, the Borg – a cube shaped monolith that hurtles through space destroying everything in its path.

The Borg don’t believe in the prime directive. They believe that everyone they encounter must be assimilated into their collective. They believe that resistance is futile. Just like when you are dealing with the tax collector. You will succumb.

The Klingons are fierce warriors and incredibly ugly. They see glory in death and on the eve of a battle hope their friends “die well”. Klingon women are particularly gruesome.

The Ferengi raison d’etre is avarice. They will pursue anything that gains a profit – financial or strategic.

Cardacians are another story. They smile sincerely as they stab you in the heart.

Romulans – aggressive and distrustful and unlike their peace loving relatives the Vulcans.

Meeting that cadre of Doctor Beverley Crushers in the washroom was just the beginning of my afternoon at the Convention. Klingons roamed the convention floor in various degrees of Klingon-attire. Some looked like members of Kiss with their platform heels and face make up. Others had everything perfectly in place, including the facial enhancements that could only be accomplished with some sophisticated make up.

No Borg though. I would imagine its pretty challenging for the keenest trekkie to emulate a cube hurtling through the galaxies.

It fascinated me how seriously the conventioneers took the event. Many were dressed up after some Star Trek character. They assembled to listen to various speakers, some of whom were actors in the series.

An auction was held later in the afternoon with the audience bidding on Star Trek memorabilia.

There is a character is the New Generation Series called Q. He is a member of the Q continuum and has incredible powers, most of which he abuses. He is the bad boy of outer space. His particular mission is to taunt Captain Jean Luc Picard in any way he can – mocking his French heritage by referring to him as “mon capitan”.

Apparently, the actor who plays Q appeared at a Star Trek convention in the States once and on the day he was sick. He had what he thought was the flu. In true thespian form he got up on the stage and addressed the audience, but needed a drink of water part way through. After his talk, he apologised for not staying longer and left the Convention.

During the usual auction that followed, in a stroke of brilliance the MC asked if anyone in the audience would bid on Q’s unfinished glass of water. As the story goes, apparently it sold for $300. The winning bidder walked away with a smile on his face and was heard to say that if he drank the remaining water he would acquire some of Q’s mysterious powers. After all, he is known for making people disappear on occasion.

And then there was the lady in Alabama who believes she is a member of Star Fleet. She proudly wears the red and black uniform on a daily basis. She made the news because she had been called for Jury Duty and appeared in dress uniform on the first day of the trial explaining to the astonished media that members of Star Fleet take their responsibilities very seriously.

That afternoon at the Convention somehow spoiled my personal illusion of the Federation of Planets. Make believe yes. But if it were real how many of you would like to be on the bridge of the Enterprise doing some important job – hailing that other star ship, switching on the international communicator so that you could be understood by some alien race, monitoring the ship’s engines and its dylithium crystals. How nerve-wracking to hear the Chief Engineer, Commander Montgomery Scott utter those immortal words in his Scottish brogue – “the engines canna take any more Captain”.

Wouldn’t you like just once to sit in the Captain’s Chair and issue the order to go forward at full speed – Warp Factor 9. Captain Picard would sit there stoicly looking out into the void. He would raise one arm slightly and point forward, uttering that commanding word in his Shakespearian-trained voice to get moving – Engage.

I’m really not a groupie, but I do have to confess to being a member of the Klingon empire. Yes they are ugly and warlike, but they have a gothic quality that sets them apart. While I don’t dress up and go to Conventions – I do have their badge.

While on the subject of badges, haven’t you always loved the communicators that members of star fleet wear. They are the triangular shaped badges worn on the left of the uniform. Smart little things, if you happen to be down on some planet and have done your work for the day, you touch your communicator and tell the bridge – one to beam up. And bingo - as a carbon based life form you are transported through space back onto the star ship. How liberating is that.

As someone once scrawled on the service elevator wall in our office building – “beam me up Scottie, there’s no intelligent life down here”.

One to beam up.