In August 1994, I had the opportunity
to go to a Star Trek convention where Leonard Nimoy was scheduled to appear.
I didn't figure out until afterward, however, that I'd killed any chance of
getting my questions answered for one reason: I was wearing a cheesy Galvatron
costume. Score one for overeagerness...
A classmate at the Louisiana School for Math, Science and the Arts parodied the event from an unlikely point of view in the following story:
Day in the Life..."
by Charlene Yin
written September 28, 1994
It is August 13, 1994, and I am Galvatron, leader of the Decepticons. I am disguised as my female human counterpart Sharon LaBorde here in Plano, Texas today to ask the greatest question of all; the question that has burned in the mind of myself and that of each and every Transformer.
I enter the convention, presumably the only Transformer present. The humans stare. What are they staring at?! Stupid humans. I wish they would stop staring. Is my arm-mounted cannon showing? Stupid humans. If they only knew how easily I could blow them all to peices. But, for the sake of keeping my disguise, and not soiling Sharon's reputation, I keep calm. Perhaps it is human nature to stare rudely, so I stare rudely back.
Eventually, all the humans push into a room next to the dealer room, where all manner of Nimoy and other related merchandise is sold. Finally, finally, I shall hear Nimoy speak! I sit where he will see me and wait patiently as he tells the story of his life, and his jobs as an actor and director. It is all...interesting and...entertaining.
At the conclusion of his speech, he asks us, the audience, for questions. I raise my hand high, adrenaline pulsing, coursing hard and fast through me. I am so excited! I will have my question answered! I will speak to Leonard Nimoy. He will hear my voice and learn my name....
He calls on the girl in front of me. Blast! Call on me! He calls on the man behind me, the man NEXT to me, and the man across from me...I've had it! "ANSWER MY QUESTION!" I shout at him as I stand, knocking the surrounding humans to the ground.
My costume rips, and the cloth that shrouded me as "Sharon" falls to the ground. I raise my cannon. "Answer me!!!" Don't they know who I am?! I start to shoot people around me, especially those people who have already asked their questions. I am jealous of them.
People are fainting. The 'security guards' are vainly trying to pull me away. Nimoy looks at me in distress. Over the din of screams, cannon blasts and gunfire, he shouts, "What's your question?"
I stop. "My question? ....I forgot..." Now I'll never know...
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