My People My People

Several years ago on a spring morning I was in a car heading toward Pasadena. My friend Mark and I were going to a Star Trek convention or a Con as people like to say.

We were not dressed up at all and we have never dressed up and gone to a Con. Anyway, we were going because we wanted to see what was in the Dealer's Room. I wanted to see if I could get a good price on a Tricorder, or even if I could find one as they were hard to find. I always lamented not getting one at the Con in New York back in '94.

Sure, we were going to see some of the guests too, but most of the guests were going to be people from Next Gen which is fine, I watched the show but classic Trek is still the best. As a friend of mine says, "The older Star Trek is, the better it is."

So, Mark and I were approaching the Pasadena Convention Center and we could see them.

All of the nerds.

All of these people dressed up like Klingons and what have you. Nerds. Star Trek nerds.

That was when my friend Mark muttered the line, "Oh, my people, my people."

I am of that tribe, yes, it is true, but I don't have that, I want to dress up in public gene. I completely understand where they come from, and I empathize with them.

Oh, I didn't tell you that since I drank an unusual amount of Diet Pepsi last night I was up until two in the morning looking for patterns for Classic Trek tunics and landing party jackets.

My People My People.

Kurt