Monday, February 27, 2012

New Orleans Comic-Con 2012

Oh, besides William Shatner (see previous entry), there was other stuff going on at the 2012 New Orleans Comic-Con. New Orleans did another great job. Besides William Shatner, the guests of interest were James Marsters, Adam Baldwin and Michael Biehn. I armored up early Saturday and left.

The ticket lines were incredibly long, but moved quickly. Several people took pictures of what is undoubtedly a rare sight - a Klingon waiting in line. Sometimes it is difficult to adhere to Terran courtesy and customs, but in the interest of interspecies detente, I complied.

The large hall was filled with Ferengi merchants selling their wares, and many comic book artists displaying samples of their excellent work. Besides my picture with William Shatner, I took pictures with James Marsters, Adam Baldwin and Michael Biehn. James Marsters was his usual telegenic self, chatting briefly with the folks getting pictures. We both have an affinity for the blues, so we talked about that for a second. Adam Baldwin was also very personable. He is conservative politically, and he and Robert Duncan McNeill (Tom Paris from Star Trek-Voyager), who is liberal politically, engage in animated, but very interesting discussions on twitter. I mentioned to Adam about this and he laughed heartily and said "He never answers my questions!" He was also very personable.

After the photographs, I wandered around and talked at length with my friends from the Star Wars 501st, as well as other Trekkies, all feddies, in uniform. Many of the folks attending wanted a picture, and I was happy to oblige. My friend Ri'par came as a TOS Klingon, and he was very, very impressive. I must make that uniform my next project. Other than Ri'par, there were no other Klingons, which was unfortunate.

That evening, I was "volunteered" for the costume contest. I was not eager to take part, the reason being somewhat vain. Although I had made tweaks to my uniform that I think made it look better, I used a new headpiece which was a smidgen too large. Consequently, it kept slipping back on my head. I also go the color off by a bit. I was far from my best-looking Klingon. Nevertheless, I entered. My friend Andrew was one of the judges, and remembering last year when I sang the Klingon War Song, he prompted the emcee, as he was introducing me, to say "I feel a song coming on". This year, I serenaded them with the Klingon Drinking Song. If I go next year, I'll have to learn the song that Worf and Martok sang in "You are Cordially Invited" for the kal'Haya. Also, there has to be some arias from Klingon opera I can learn, too. All of the constumes were awesome. I appreciate the time and effort these folks spend on such a fun endeavour. I was one of the "honorable mentions" despite my drawbacks, for which I was most appreciative.

The next day, I also appeared in Klingon uniform. Last year, I missed the Q&A for James Marsters, but didn't want to miss this one. I got to ask the last question, which was kind of funny, beacuse the guy running the show said "I think I better give the last question to the Klingon". So, I mentioned to James that I enjoyed his SyFy Original movie he did, a western called "High Plains Invaders", and asked him how he liked doing a western and if he wanted to do more. He said he loved it and would love to do more. He told a funny story about how the set, which was used quite a lot for westerns, had tons of nails sticking out of the wood sets. He said he tried in vain to get someone to fix that, because with all of the fighting and falling, an actor was sure to get impaled by a rogue nails. After nothing being done, James said he got a hammer and started fixing the problem himself. At that point, some of the crew finally helped. I got Adam Baldwin to sign the picture I took with him. I would have liked for James Marsters to sign his as well, but he was running late and it was time to take the shuttle back to the homeworld. All in all, it was an awesome con, and I look forward to next time. Qa'pla!

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

On Meeting Captain James Tiberius Kirk - or how I stopped worrying and learned to be eleven years old again.

I can now die a happier man. On Saturday, January 28th, at approximately 12:50 p.m., I met Mr. William Shatner. To fully understand the importance of this event to your faithful writer, we need to go back in time to when I was eleven years old. I discovered Star Trek during its afternoon syndication after school. My friend Mitch Markow and I were fans from the very first minute we saw Captain Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise. So much were we bitten by the Trekkie bug that we made wall intercoms, and communicators out of construction paper and picked out our most futuristic water pistols to serve as phasers. After the show, we tried to recreate the episode we just saw. My first choice as a character back then, (silly me) was Mr. Spock. Mitch, however, was a little faster on the “call-it” rule and he called Mr. Spock before I did. That left me, by default to be Captain Kirk. Thus began my love affair with William Shatner.

Very quickly I realized that James T. Kirk was the man. I loved how he dealt with the people and aliens he met, both friend and foe. My eleven-year-old self even realized his way with the ladies, although I could not fully appreciate the babe magnet Captain Kirk was. I copied Captain Kirk’s mannerisms, his speech, and I even tried to tell my barber how to cut my hair like Captain Kirk. Looking back how, I realize what a mistake it was that I did not fully embrace my new character. Had I lived the part in the years after, my way with the Junior High and High School girls would have made me the stuff of legend. Unfortunately, it did not turn out that way. My excuse was that any pretty girl was probably not a Trekkie and would not appreciate my smoothness as James T. Kirk. Well, that, and the fact that talking to a girl socially was about as easy for me as rebuilding a carburetor blindfolded.

However, my ineptness with girls did not diminish my fanboy admiration for William Shatner. Once, while visiting relatives in Texas, I told an aunt of mine of my love for William Shatner. She had me almost in tears when she said “Oh, he’s old and fat now and I saw him on television doing margarine commercials.” Hah, lady, the joke’s on you as only a year or two later, Star Trek: The Motion Picture was released and Captain Kirk re-emerged as a heroic captain of space exploration to a whole new fanbase.

In the years after, as Trek movies came and went, and realizing that Captain Kirk was now well past the age to draw Social Security, I wondered if I was ever going to meet him at a convention. Like a bag of money falling into my lap from the sky, New Orleans Comic Con 2012 came through.

Which brings us now to the present. A lifelong dream of mine was fulfilled when I met William Shatner. Well, “met”, while technically true, is not entirely honest. More truthfully, I was in his presence for around fifteen seconds. The line to get a William Shatner picture was long, but moved quickly. As I approached the front, I felt my knees noticeably shaking. Wow. I just hope I didn’t collapse and fall or something like that. Just as quickly, I was near the front and could see Captain Kirk himself in the photo area, smiling as he took picture after picture. A random thought went through my head. How many pictures has he taken with his fans? I’d probably say the number is in the tens of thousands. Still, watching, him he gave each person a genuine smile, as if the picture were for that person and that person alone. And, just as quickly, it was my turn. I walked up to my idol, the man I’d wanted to meet ever since I was eleven years old. As I paused by him preparing for the picture, I managed to speak a coherent sentence, which was something like “Mr. Shatner, it’s a great honor to meet you.” More importantly, however, he spoke to me. I was in my Klingon uniform, and he looked at me as I walked up to him and said, “Nice job.” A thirteen year old girl who just had Justin Bieber show up at her birthday party could not have swooned more than I did. I did swoon. However, I kept it all inside, as a true Klingon warrior would. I paused, in his presence, standing inches from him as the photographer took our picture. Just as quickly, it was over. Thank you, Mr. Shatner, for bringing a world of happiness to this eleven year old boy.