Dancing Barefoot by Wil Wheaton

Author:Wil Wheaton [Wheaton, Wil]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: COMPUTERS / Social Aspects / General
ISBN: 9781449310486
Publisher: O'Reilly Media
Published: 2004-02-23T23:00:00+00:00

Performing well at a convention is extremely important to me. I care about what the fans think. I don’t write them off or take them for granted. I know that they’ve spent a large portion of their disposable income on this show, and I want to make sure they get their money’s worth.

I remember how I felt when WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER dismissed me on the set of Star Trek V. That feeling of humiliation and disenchantment is easy for me to recall, and I do everything I can to ensure that I don’t inflict it on another person.

When I am on stage, the only real difference between me and the people I’m talking to is that I got paid to wear the spacesuit. I’m a huge science fiction geek. I’ve been attending conventions since I was in the fifth grade, and I know what it’s like when a guest is only there to take the fans’ money.

I pace backstage, checking my watch every 40 seconds. Michael and Marina are really working this crowd, and the fans don’t want to let them get offstage. At 5:15, they finish.

My mouth and throat get dry. My hands sweat and tremble. I’ve got the Mind Meld cast, my parents and my wife in the audience. The last thing I want is to have a whole room of Trekkies hate me in front of them.

Michael and Marina come offstage, and smile at me. Marina gives me a warm hug, and kisses my cheek.

“You look great, Teen Idol.” She turns to Michael. “Doesn’t he look great?”

“If you say so,” Michael teases me.

I love these two. I’m terrified about going on stage, but a smile that starts in my feet spreads across my face.

“The fans loved you guys,” I say. “I have a lot to live up to.”

“You’re going to be great, Wil.” It’s Dave Scott. “Are you ready?”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Michael and Marina wish me luck, and leave. I wonder if any of us have ever stayed around to watch each other on stage. I’ve watched Patrick a few times, hoping that he’ll break into some spontaneous Shakespeare, but nobody’s ever watched me, as far as I know.

Dave pats my shoulder, and takes the stage.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen! Our next speaker is going to really surprise you!” The crowd begins to applaud.

That was nice. Surprising people is cool.

“He did a show for me in Waterbury, Connecticut, and he was the funniest, most entertaining, and charming guest I’ve ever had!” The applause is joined by some whistling.

Woah, Dave! Let’s not build me up too much.

“You are going to have the time of your life in the next 50 minutes!”

I can hear some screams of “WESLEY!” join the cacophony.

Oh Christ. “The time of your life?!” Stop now, please.

“Please welcome to the stage, all the way from Los Angeles, the man, the myth, the legend, Wesley Crusher himself, WIL WHEATON!”

The crowd explodes. They cheer. They stomp their feet. They whistle. The stage is littered with panties.

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