Free Just a Geek by Wil Wheaton
Authors: Wil Wheaton
Tags: United States, Literary, General, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Computers, Authors, American, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Actors, Biography, Internet, Performing Arts, Autobiography, Operating Systems, Web Page Design, Television, Social Aspects, Acting & Auditioning, fame, Television Actors and Actresses, Web, Page Design, Wil, Windows Workstation, Autobiography: arts & entertainment, General Theory of Computing, Operating Systems - Windows, World Wide Web, Wheaton, Computer Books: Operating Systems, Autobiography: The Arts, Television actors - United States - Biography, Webmasters - United States - Biography, Webmasters, Television actors, Electronic Publishing, Entertainment & Performing Arts - Television Personalities
dramatically, and the theater 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.
IF YOU LIVED HERE, YOU'D BE HOME NOW.
Star Trek: The Experience is split up into three main areas: a restaurant that features Quark's Bar, a replica of the DS9 Promenade that is filled with memorabilia and souvenirs, and the actual Star Trek "Experience" itself, which features an amazing trip right onto the bridge of the Enterprise D .
The whole thing is built beneath a huge model of the Enterprise D that hangs from the ceiling in midflight.
This is my first trip to Star Trek: The Experience, and I gasp involuntarily when I see my spaceship hanging there.
Staring at this giant model now, which must be 20 feet across the saucer section, I recall the first time I saw the Enterprise D in flight, when Paramount screened "Encounter At Farpoint" for us back in 1987. I sat in a darkened theater, and when Patrick Stewart intoned, "Space . . . the final frontier . . ." I got goosebumps. The seats began to rumble, and there was my spaceship, cruising by. She was beautiful. When she went to warp speed, my mouth hung open, and tears sprung into my eyes. I knew that I was part of something wonderful.
I point at it and say to Anne, "Hey! Look! I can see my house from here!" I giggle, and she has no idea what I'm talking about, which is one of the reasons I married her.
Anne and I are a little overwhelmed by how large and detailed everything is, but we don't have any time to take it in, because as soon as we arrive, the fans begin to approach. They're all very cool and friendly. Most of them have seen my sketch show and want to compliment me on it.
"It's one of the funniest things I've ever seen," says one man.
"I haven't laughed that hard at anything, ever, in my entire life. You guys rocked!" says another.
A woman recounts an entire sketch called "What Dreams May Come," where I play a 12-year-old kid who is supposed to have his first wet dream. His "nice dream angel," played by Travis (at 280 pounds, wrapped in a sheet, Travis got laughs just walking on stage) has a battle with his "naughty dream angel," played by Maz, who wore leather pants and a vest. During the sketch, all I do is lay in bed and occasionally hump the mattress. The sketch always kills, and this show was no exception.
"I'll never be able to see you as just Wesley Crusher again," she says.
"That's the idea, ma'am," I say.
"Are you ever embarrassed to perform that sketch in front of your wife?" she asks.
"It's nothing she doesn't see at home several times a week," I say. Anne punches my arm, and we all laugh.
Another man tells me that he had planned to see the other show that night, which was a performance of Love Letters that Rene Auberjonois did with Nana Visitor.
"I stayed in it for about 15 minutes, but I kept hearing laughter from your theater, so I left and bought a ticket to your show. I'm so glad that I did!" he tells me and claps me on the back.
Everyone wants to know when they can see the show again, and if they can buy audio or video versions.
"Sorry, but there aren't any recordings of the show. It's a once-in-a-lifetime deal," I say.
"Why didn't you tape it? It was great!" a woman asks.
"I don't know," I say, and that's the truth. We just didn't think to record it. I know that we all regret this fact. There will never be another Mind Meld performance like it.
I pose for pictures, visit with some friends who I only get to see at conventions, and decide to take Anne on the ride.
The line takes us down a long and winding path, flanked by props and costumes dating all the
"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.
IF YOU LIVED HERE, YOU'D BE HOME NOW.
Star Trek: The Experience is split up into three main areas: a restaurant that features Quark's Bar, a replica of the DS9 Promenade that is filled with memorabilia and souvenirs, and the actual Star Trek "Experience" itself, which features an amazing trip right onto the bridge of the Enterprise D .
The whole thing is built beneath a huge model of the Enterprise D that hangs from the ceiling in midflight.
This is my first trip to Star Trek: The Experience, and I gasp involuntarily when I see my spaceship hanging there.
Staring at this giant model now, which must be 20 feet across the saucer section, I recall the first time I saw the Enterprise D in flight, when Paramount screened "Encounter At Farpoint" for us back in 1987. I sat in a darkened theater, and when Patrick Stewart intoned, "Space . . . the final frontier . . ." I got goosebumps. The seats began to rumble, and there was my spaceship, cruising by. She was beautiful. When she went to warp speed, my mouth hung open, and tears sprung into my eyes. I knew that I was part of something wonderful.
I point at it and say to Anne, "Hey! Look! I can see my house from here!" I giggle, and she has no idea what I'm talking about, which is one of the reasons I married her.
Anne and I are a little overwhelmed by how large and detailed everything is, but we don't have any time to take it in, because as soon as we arrive, the fans begin to approach. They're all very cool and friendly. Most of them have seen my sketch show and want to compliment me on it.
"It's one of the funniest things I've ever seen," says one man.
"I haven't laughed that hard at anything, ever, in my entire life. You guys rocked!" says another.
A woman recounts an entire sketch called "What Dreams May Come," where I play a 12-year-old kid who is supposed to have his first wet dream. His "nice dream angel," played by Travis (at 280 pounds, wrapped in a sheet, Travis got laughs just walking on stage) has a battle with his "naughty dream angel," played by Maz, who wore leather pants and a vest. During the sketch, all I do is lay in bed and occasionally hump the mattress. The sketch always kills, and this show was no exception.
"I'll never be able to see you as just Wesley Crusher again," she says.
"That's the idea, ma'am," I say.
"Are you ever embarrassed to perform that sketch in front of your wife?" she asks.
"It's nothing she doesn't see at home several times a week," I say. Anne punches my arm, and we all laugh.
Another man tells me that he had planned to see the other show that night, which was a performance of Love Letters that Rene Auberjonois did with Nana Visitor.
"I stayed in it for about 15 minutes, but I kept hearing laughter from your theater, so I left and bought a ticket to your show. I'm so glad that I did!" he tells me and claps me on the back.
Everyone wants to know when they can see the show again, and if they can buy audio or video versions.
"Sorry, but there aren't any recordings of the show. It's a once-in-a-lifetime deal," I say.
"Why didn't you tape it? It was great!" a woman asks.
"I don't know," I say, and that's the truth. We just didn't think to record it. I know that we all regret this fact. There will never be another Mind Meld performance like it.
I pose for pictures, visit with some friends who I only get to see at conventions, and decide to take Anne on the ride.
The line takes us down a long and winding path, flanked by props and costumes dating all the
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