When I first started doing this I had three different websites, because that seemed like a good idea…it wasn’t.
I know this may be lazy, but you shouldn’t judge because I think you’ll all enjoy the following tale that I told on my old website almost 3 years ago.
This is a true story and certainly sticks with the policy I’ve placed on here to be fun and stay away from politics until after the new year.
The story takes place back before I was sober and I wrote this post before I got so heavily into BJJ and other insane things. I had been reflecting on my life, shenanigans and trying to open myself up by telling embarrassing and weird stories about myself.
This certainly falls into that category and I hope you are entertained and enjoy it.
So without further ado, here is a “classic” tale from the life of an idiot man child.
The day I went completely James T. Kirk on a Klingon.
I live in my own little world. I don’t think that’s much of a surprise to anyone who knows me. I may technically be an adult male, but my mind is usually filled up with thoughts about things that most grown men wouldn’t bother with.
Like what would I name my pet dragon?
Or if I owned a spaceship what would it look like? Who would I crew it with? Where would I go and what would I bring with me?
I have spent way more time on those questions than any man, other than Elon Musk, probably should.
And I have answers, way too many and detailed answers to be taken seriously. I know what my ship would look like. I have a good idea of the crew, and everywhere, is usually the answer for where I would go.
Of course under what would I bring with me, that’s a bit tougher. You never know what you may encounter in space and what could end up being valuable.
On the top of the list would be Stouffer’s French bread pizza. I know, that sounds silly and to be honest I’m not that big of a fan of French bread pizza, though I used to love it as a kid.
I do however think that after six months in deep space you’d kill your crewmate for a Stouffer’s pepperoni French bread pizza, so having some on hand is probably a good idea.
See? Way too much time.
I make no bones about being a geek. I always have been and always will be.
I enjoyed playing sports growing up and still enjoy physical activity. But the thought of sitting in front of the television and watching any type of sporting event, quite frankly puts me into an instant boredom coma.
Blood sports are the one exception. UFC is the shit.
If we still had gladiator games I’d have season tickets.
Barbaric? Yes. Boring? No.
Most of my friends are really into sports and that’s cool. I have a buddy who is in three different fantasy football leagues and doesn’t understand why I’d rather play Skyrim than watch football. But the basic answer is simple. If I wanted to I could go down to the park and play football, or baseball or shoot hoops. Not that I would want to, but I could.
He thinks I’m childish.
I think Fantasy Football is Dungeons and Dragons for people who don’t know what they’re missing.
So sports, I could do if I wanted. What I can’t do is kill dragons, fight demons, travel through space or battle the joker.
I did one time, a few years ago, get into a drunken fist fight with a guy dressed as the Riddler, but I don’t think that counts because A) it was Halloween and B) the guy was an asshole.
But that was old me and I am now new me, or at least trying to be.
I don’t know if I would be considered a Trekkie or Trekker. Mainly because, I don’t quite understand why people who love Star Trek would even argue about the proper term, it’s silly.
I do love Star Trek and have watched, with pride all of the series and movies. I agree with most that Star Trek Enterprise and Voyager pretty much blew and disagree with some about the new Star Trek movies, which I think are pretty awesome.
I have however never dressed up at a convention. Though I did date a woman for a while who was into a lot of role play and like me, was a massive nerd.
I have actually uttered the phrase “But I thought Vulcans only mated once every seven years?” with a completely straight face, while dressed in a Star Trek uniform and holding my phaser.
That last bit wasn’t a euphemism; I was actually holding a Star Trek phaser.
But that all took place in the privacy of her apartment where many adventures were had and the words “Firing Photons at Uranus!” could mean a lot of different things.
So while I have never indulged in public displays of Star Trekkiness there used to be a place that allowed me to immerse myself in that world and really have a good time.
It’s not there anymore, but it was called the Star Trek Experience. It was at the Hilton off the strip in Las Vegas, and was comprised of a VR ride (later there were two) various shops, a sci-fi themed casino area and a pretty damn accurate re-creation of Quark’s Bar.
Quark’s Bar was the main watering hole in the Star Trek series Deep Space 9. The bulk of the show took place on the Deep Space 9 Station and Quark’s was where people usually went to get hammered, gamble, fight and hook up.
The one in Las Vegas was no exception. They served lots of different Star Trek themed drinks, very decent food and the entire bar looked, for the most part, like it came right out of the series.
Anytime I went to Vegas I would make sure to go there. Sometimes I went with friends and sometimes alone, but I always had fun.
One of the great things about Quarks and the Star Trek Experience in general was that they had people dressed up in costume who would walk around and interact with the guests. This added an extra level of immersion that at times could really transport you into the fantasy.
Especially depending on how many shots of tequila you’d had.
The best and strangest experience I ever had at Quark’s took place quite a few years ago in 2006. Three of us decided to head to Vegas for a weekend of Shenanigans. The plan was as usual, eat, drink and gamble.
Saturday morning, after much cajoling on my part I convinced my friends to come with me to Quark’s.
Neither of them were Star Trek fans and only after promising to not only pay for lunch, but all the booze, they agreed to come.
So there we sat at the bar doing shots of tequila and watching the insanity around us. After the first couple of shots my friends started to loosen up.
By the time we’d eaten our lunch and got down to the serious drinking, they were having a blast.
At one point a young man in a Federation Uniform came by and got into an argument with a Ferengi. The staged argument ended with the Federation Officer administering a stern warning.
We continued to drink and the more we did, the more my friends got into the whole experience.
It was around hour two of tequila fest when we realized there was a group of Federation Officers, sitting in a booth and pretending to drink heavily themselves.
We observed them, talking about the troubles in the neutral zone and what Star Fleet needed to do about the Cardasian situation.
My friends and I were pretty drunk at this point and incredibly impressed with the amount of detail the attraction put into the whole Quark’s Bar thing.
Then, it got even better when three, really drunk Klingon Warriors stumbled in and shouted for Ale. There were two men and one woman, all appeared to be Korean under their incredibly professional makeup.
About five minutes after the Klingons came in, things went to the next level. The largest male warrior said something that sounded very derisive in Klingon and pointed at the booth of Federation officers.
The Klingons laughed heartily, clinked beer steins and downed their ales.
There was much whispering at the Federation table and the four officers stood and stumbled over to the Klingons, telling them to watch themselves.
Theses officers were not going to be putting up with any Klingon bullshit.
That’s when the largest of the Klingons stood up and poked the commanding officer in the chest with his finger. The officer poked back. This was followed by a shove from the Klingon and then a shove from the officer.
We were really enjoying this show.
Then the Klingon warrior leaned back, belched, and slugged the Federation Officer in the jaw, sending him to the floor unconscious.
That’s when we realized that these people didn’t actually work at Quark’s or the Star Trek Experience but were simply serious fans who were seriously drunk.
The fight escalated and we ordered more shots.
Within thirty seconds it was broken up. The Federation Officers were hauled off, as was the one Klingon who’d thrown the punch. This left two Klingons sitting at the table, too drunk to go after their friend.
I decided to buy them a drink.
A few minutes later, they stumbled over toward us.
The female warrior, who I could tell was a very cute Korean girl under her ridged forehead leaned into me and said, “Hiq Jihvad!”
I didn’t know what that meant, because I don’t speak Klingon. My friends were giggling but the male Klingon warrior said, “She wants you to buy her another drink.”
So I did.
We sat there and did two more shots and had a beer together, while she mumbled in Klingon.
My two friends were currently engaged in a drinking competition with the male warrior and from what I could tell were having the time of their lives.
The female warrior wrapped her arm around my shoulder, looked me in my bleary eyes and said, “Sohvad!”
I looked to the male warrior who translated, with a smile. “She said you’ll do.”
She grabbed my wrist, yanked me off my stool and started dragging me out of the bar. She turned back and yelled over her shoulder to her companion in Klingon.
He did not wait to be asked but immediately translated. “My sister is taking you upstairs!”
So I finally knew what was happening. I was about to go upstairs to her hotel room and engage in Klingon, Human relations.
Certainly not the strangest thing I’ve done on tequila.
I was also relieved to know this man was her brother and was incredibly curious about their childhood.
My friends shouted things like “Do it for the Federation!” and “We’ll rendezvous in sector gigidy!” They were still laughing and drinking as I was dragged through the Hilton by a six foot two, drunken, Korean Klingon warrior.
I kept trying to get her name, but she refused to speak English.
We got to her room and she threw me onto the bed and growled. Seriously, this crazy woman actually picked me up, threw me and then growled.
Needless to say I was ready to put all my efforts into the diplomatic détente between an upstanding citizen of the United Federation of Planets and a proud warrior of the Klingon Empire.
I reached out and attempted to pull the latex ridges off her forehead. She grabbed my wrists and pushed me away. It seemed she was determined to stay in character, and again would not speak to me in English.
Through a series of hand motions we were able to negotiate a partial deal. She agreed to, and did remove the false, crooked, pointed Klingon teeth she was wearing. Two lovely rows of white, straight human teeth were revealed.
Oddly enough this actually made her look stranger than she had before.
She quickly shucked herself out of her Klingon battle gear.
The whole time we were up in her room she kept screaming out words in Klingon which I hope stood for “Yes” and “Oh my God” and not “You’re doing it wrong” and “Don’t stick your finger in there”.
Laying in bed and watching TV she kept repeating the same word. “Mej”
I didn’t know what it meant and she wasn’t angry so I lay there with her for a little while longer watching an episode of Stargate. Finally she turned to me, smiled and kissed me on the cheek.
Then she pointed at the door and said “Mej”
I’m pretty sure that means leave, so I did.
Riding back down in the elevator I couldn’t really believe what happened. I had never, and to this day have never, met anyone that into Star Trek.
I had been drunkenly seduced and used as a sexual play toy by an Amazonian, Korean, Female, Klingon Warrior.
I felt really cool. Captain James T. Kirk, sleeping with green alien chicks cool.
It was one of the greatest Las Vegas Saturdays of my life.
I did the walk of absolutely no shame back into the bar and found my friends still drinking with the male Klingon.
They were completely hammered.
It turned out the Klingon guys name was Glen. He, his sister Judith (The woman who’d had her way with me) and their friend Mike—who’d been kicked out of the bar and probably arrested— would come to Vegas twice a year from Minnesota to dress as Klingons and get drunk at Quarks for about a week.
They would walk around Vegas, the entire time in character. It was their biannual pilgrimage to a place they loved.
I’m sure they were crushed when it closed.
My friends hailed me as a conquering hero, and the next time we went back to Vegas they insisted we go to Quark’s. Bar.
We never had and experience like that one again. But something like that is rarely repeated.
So if you ever find yourself in a bar in Minnesota and a tall, buxom Korean woman, in full Klingon garb approaches you, that’s probably Judith.
You’ll have two choices. You can run like a Ferengi coward.
Or put on your Kirk pants and do the Federation proud.
Oh by the way, my spaceship would be called the Chicken Hawk.
My pet dragon’s name would be Excelsior. He is one bad mama-jama of a metallic green dragon with gold flecks and he don’t take no shit from no body.
Yeah I’m a geek, whatcha gonna do about it sports nerd?
Live long and prosper bitches.
Have a nice weekend everybody, see ya next week with another of my “conversations with nature” stories.
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