Holy crap, you guys! I was at the world premiere of the new Star Trek movie.
And saw Leonard Nimoy. FOR REAL.
And almost got run over by his car.
For the past two days, I have been Googling "Star Trek" every hour to see what comes up. Eventually, the news made it to the New York Times and the BBC. Which means it's more than official--it's worldwide news.
***
It all started with Science-Fiction Friend's suggestion that we go see the free screening of "Wrath of Khan" at Local Theater. Crazy Redhead Mathematically-Inclined Friend, an inveterate fan, immediately agreed. Childish Booksmart Friend and Friend With Many Pairs of Sunglasses were both moderate followers, and Bookish Friend and I had both seen one episode in the past. The date was set.
As it approached, excitement mounted and plans were made.
Monday night, at 8:50 pm, we piled into Bookish Friend's car and drove to the theater. When we arrived, the line was already sizable for the small theater. We took our places and began to play word games to pass the time.
Soon enough, the line started to move forward. Geeky Movie Festival pass holders were called to the front and shown to the entrance. The line grew smaller and smaller. Suddenly, an attendant exclaimed, "We'll take one more!"
We looked at each other. And then at Sci-Fi Friend. By immediate and universal consensus, we pushed her toward the theater. The attendant took her through the door, then came back. "We may have some more seats, I'll come back if I do."
With five remaining, we established an order should there be too small a number of seats. Crazy Redhead would go next, then me, then Childish Booksmart, then Sunglasses, and finally, Bookish Friend, who had the car and was needed to drive everyone else around.
Fortunately, the news were good: eleven seats remained. The rest of the hopefuls were turned away.
We filed into the antechamber, where brisk security guards asked us to place cell phones, cameras, and other electronic accessories into plastic bags. We were swept over with a magnetic wand and, having been declared safe, were ushered into the theater. We looked at each other--the level of security was surprising for such a simple thing as a movie. But then again, they would be showing the first ten minutes of the new movie, and probably didn't want to have it all over YouTube before the release.
There were barely any seats left, and only two together. Obligingly, we left Bookish Friend and Friend With Many Pairs of Sunglassess sit together and hunted for empty chairs. I wandered to the front, and all I could see was a spot in the middle of the front row. I sighed. My neck would be killing me by the end of the movie. I sat down.
Almost immediately, the lights dimmed. A man walked onstage with a microphone. He greeted the enthusiastic crowd.
Three men were introduced onstage: the writers.
Finally, the movie began. The quality was bad, shockingly so for a supposedly new print. There were green stripes running up and down the screen. Suddenly, the image split, then disappeared completely.
"Get on stage and stall! I'm going to fix this"
The three writers ran onstage and talked nonsense for a couple minutes.
Then, a man in a long coat and hat walked onstage. He put down the silver case he was carrying and took off his coat.
There was a second of stunned silence, of disbelief. Then, thunderous applause. The audience leapt to their feet, shouting, screaming, whistling, holding their hands up in the traditional salute.
It was Leonard Nimoy. Spock himself.
I turned around to try to catch a glimpse of Sci-Fi Friend's face. I knew she would be crying and hugging the closest audience member wherever she was sitting.
I could tell you what happened next, but he can tell you himself better:
Well, here we are. The lights dim again, and the movie starts. For real, this time.
I am blown away. The theater is blown away. It is magnificent.
To me, a complete newcomer to the world of Star Trek, it is a spectacular introduction. To the fans, who laugh and clap at references I do not understand, it is a masterfully executed new opus. And to everyone else--it is a fantastic movie.
When the credits begin to roll and the lights come up, everyone stands and applauds. And applauds. And applauds.
A final word, a final salute, and it is over.
(You can very definitely see my outline at the very end. I told you, I was sitting front row center!)
I find my friends. Like the group of teenage girls we are, our instinctual response is to emit squeals audible only to dogs and bats. The rest of the audience passes us by, giving us bemused looks: not only do we seem to be the only college students in the room, we are also all girls.
At the door, we retrieve cell phones and cameras. Before I can even begin to breathe normally, I call The Boy. It is late, and with the time difference he is most likely asleep, but he is a huge fan. I leave a nearly incomprehensible voicemail. Around me, others are doing the same: Crazy Redhead calls her parents, Childish Booksmart her brother, Sci-Fi her best friend/rival.
At the front, badge-holders are handed out signed posters and teeshirts. We look wistfully at them, then walk outside. We stand on the sidewalk, hugging each other and occasionally screaming.
We head toward the parking lot when a car comes to a sudden halt before our group. We weren't looking, and it almost hit us.
It was Leonard Nimoy's car.
It is going in the same direction as us. We follow it, a car behind. It turns at an intersection, and we sigh.
I run from the garage all the way to my dorm. I want to hug everyone I see and tell them what just happened. I meet a friend in the elevator. He is relatively unimpressed. Oh well.
It doesn't matter, I shall Live Long And Prosper, and be a Star Trek fan for the rest of my life.
***
It has been two days, and the adrenaline still hasn't worn off. Crazy Redhead, Sci-Fi and I are planning to stand up during the Highly Selective Science Program Friday lunch, when Man In Charge asks for announcements, and tell our story again. In a room full of geeks, it's probably suicide, but the world has to know.
Plus, they'll all be jealous.
Also, I have since found (and read) many articles, mostly rants of disbelief from the millions of fans worldwide, and all the pictures of the event... Several of which I am in!
Blistering barnacles. This is unbelievable.
And saw Leonard Nimoy. FOR REAL.
And almost got run over by his car.
For the past two days, I have been Googling "Star Trek" every hour to see what comes up. Eventually, the news made it to the New York Times and the BBC. Which means it's more than official--it's worldwide news.
***
It all started with Science-Fiction Friend's suggestion that we go see the free screening of "Wrath of Khan" at Local Theater. Crazy Redhead Mathematically-Inclined Friend, an inveterate fan, immediately agreed. Childish Booksmart Friend and Friend With Many Pairs of Sunglasses were both moderate followers, and Bookish Friend and I had both seen one episode in the past. The date was set.
As it approached, excitement mounted and plans were made.
Monday night, at 8:50 pm, we piled into Bookish Friend's car and drove to the theater. When we arrived, the line was already sizable for the small theater. We took our places and began to play word games to pass the time.
Soon enough, the line started to move forward. Geeky Movie Festival pass holders were called to the front and shown to the entrance. The line grew smaller and smaller. Suddenly, an attendant exclaimed, "We'll take one more!"
We looked at each other. And then at Sci-Fi Friend. By immediate and universal consensus, we pushed her toward the theater. The attendant took her through the door, then came back. "We may have some more seats, I'll come back if I do."
With five remaining, we established an order should there be too small a number of seats. Crazy Redhead would go next, then me, then Childish Booksmart, then Sunglasses, and finally, Bookish Friend, who had the car and was needed to drive everyone else around.
Fortunately, the news were good: eleven seats remained. The rest of the hopefuls were turned away.
We filed into the antechamber, where brisk security guards asked us to place cell phones, cameras, and other electronic accessories into plastic bags. We were swept over with a magnetic wand and, having been declared safe, were ushered into the theater. We looked at each other--the level of security was surprising for such a simple thing as a movie. But then again, they would be showing the first ten minutes of the new movie, and probably didn't want to have it all over YouTube before the release.
There were barely any seats left, and only two together. Obligingly, we left Bookish Friend and Friend With Many Pairs of Sunglassess sit together and hunted for empty chairs. I wandered to the front, and all I could see was a spot in the middle of the front row. I sighed. My neck would be killing me by the end of the movie. I sat down.
Almost immediately, the lights dimmed. A man walked onstage with a microphone. He greeted the enthusiastic crowd.
Three men were introduced onstage: the writers.
Finally, the movie began. The quality was bad, shockingly so for a supposedly new print. There were green stripes running up and down the screen. Suddenly, the image split, then disappeared completely.
"Get on stage and stall! I'm going to fix this"
The three writers ran onstage and talked nonsense for a couple minutes.
Then, a man in a long coat and hat walked onstage. He put down the silver case he was carrying and took off his coat.
There was a second of stunned silence, of disbelief. Then, thunderous applause. The audience leapt to their feet, shouting, screaming, whistling, holding their hands up in the traditional salute.
It was Leonard Nimoy. Spock himself.
I turned around to try to catch a glimpse of Sci-Fi Friend's face. I knew she would be crying and hugging the closest audience member wherever she was sitting.
I could tell you what happened next, but he can tell you himself better:
Well, here we are. The lights dim again, and the movie starts. For real, this time.
I am blown away. The theater is blown away. It is magnificent.
To me, a complete newcomer to the world of Star Trek, it is a spectacular introduction. To the fans, who laugh and clap at references I do not understand, it is a masterfully executed new opus. And to everyone else--it is a fantastic movie.
When the credits begin to roll and the lights come up, everyone stands and applauds. And applauds. And applauds.
A final word, a final salute, and it is over.
(You can very definitely see my outline at the very end. I told you, I was sitting front row center!)
I find my friends. Like the group of teenage girls we are, our instinctual response is to emit squeals audible only to dogs and bats. The rest of the audience passes us by, giving us bemused looks: not only do we seem to be the only college students in the room, we are also all girls.
At the door, we retrieve cell phones and cameras. Before I can even begin to breathe normally, I call The Boy. It is late, and with the time difference he is most likely asleep, but he is a huge fan. I leave a nearly incomprehensible voicemail. Around me, others are doing the same: Crazy Redhead calls her parents, Childish Booksmart her brother, Sci-Fi her best friend/rival.
At the front, badge-holders are handed out signed posters and teeshirts. We look wistfully at them, then walk outside. We stand on the sidewalk, hugging each other and occasionally screaming.
We head toward the parking lot when a car comes to a sudden halt before our group. We weren't looking, and it almost hit us.
It was Leonard Nimoy's car.
It is going in the same direction as us. We follow it, a car behind. It turns at an intersection, and we sigh.
I run from the garage all the way to my dorm. I want to hug everyone I see and tell them what just happened. I meet a friend in the elevator. He is relatively unimpressed. Oh well.
It doesn't matter, I shall Live Long And Prosper, and be a Star Trek fan for the rest of my life.
***
It has been two days, and the adrenaline still hasn't worn off. Crazy Redhead, Sci-Fi and I are planning to stand up during the Highly Selective Science Program Friday lunch, when Man In Charge asks for announcements, and tell our story again. In a room full of geeks, it's probably suicide, but the world has to know.
Plus, they'll all be jealous.
Also, I have since found (and read) many articles, mostly rants of disbelief from the millions of fans worldwide, and all the pictures of the event... Several of which I am in!
Blistering barnacles. This is unbelievable.
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