Up Till Now. The Autobiography

of importance to tell them.
    It didn’t matter; the audience was an actor’s dream. They responded to my slightest smile. I had them in the grip of my phaser. Eventually I would develop a little bit of a routine; for example, I would tell them about the day Dee Kelley came to the set and was crying. Dee was a wonderful man and clearly he was very upset. “Dee,” I asked with great concern, “what’s the matter?”
    It was his beloved Chihuahua, he told me. This little dog who had meant so much to him had died tragically.
    “Oh, Dee,” I said. “I’m so terribly sorry. I love dogs and I know the pain of losing a dog you love. How did it happen?”
    And through his tears he told me, “Well, I let her off the leash in my front yard and she was running around, she was so happy, and then she ran into the sprinkler head and died.”
    Naturally, I laughed. And Dee didn’t speak to me for two years. But at that first appearance I didn’t have a speech, so I fumbled around for a little while and, in desperation, I asked hopefully, “Does anyone have a question?”
    Instantly eight thousand hands went up. I knew I was home free. Questions I could answer, and if I didn’t know the answer I could always make up a good one. Except when their questions were so specific I barely understood the question, much less knew the answer. I learned very quickly that most of the people who attended these conventions understood the universal joke—and simply wanted to have a good time. It was playtime for adults. As a volunteer at the very first organized convention once admitted, “If the man from the funny farm came to take us away right now, there’d be absolutely nothing we could say in our defense.”
    After that I did start attending conventions, often appearing onstage with Leonard. It was while appearing at those conventions that we started to become really friendly. While the cast of the original series, and then the cast of Star Trek: The Next Generation were the biggest stars, pretty much anyone who ever appeared on the show could be invited to appear at a convention. True fans didn’t care, even the slightest connection to the show was sufficient: Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for the doorman on the Enterprise ! Yeaaaaa!
    My mother and my sister, Joy, were even invited to appear at a Star Trek convention.
    Truthfully, while I attended several conventions, I did not fully appreciate the passion that the fans felt for the show. To me, it was a TV show; a show that I had enjoyed doing and I was very proud of, and certainly I was grateful for everything that had happened to me because of it, but it was a TV show. Then, in December 1986, I was asked to host Saturday Night Live .
    The opening skit was a parody of me addressing a Star Trek convention. Facsimile trekkies were asking me questions I’d actually been asked, “Um, like, when you, um...left your quarters for the last time? And you opened up your safe? Um, what was the combination?”
    Finally, in this skit, after a decade of attending conventions and being asked hundreds of these inane questions, I’d had enough. I finally told these people exactly what I had been thinking for all those years. “You know, before I answer any more questions, there’s something I wanted to say. Having received all your letters over the years, and I’ve spoken to many of you, and some of you have traveled, y’know, hundreds of miles to be here, I’d just like to say... get a life, will you, people? I mean, for crying out loud, it’s just a TV show. I mean, look at you! Look at the way you’re dressed! You’ve turned an enjoyable little job, that I did as a lark for a few years, into a colossal waste of time!
    “I mean, how old are you people? What have you done with yourselves? You! You must be almost thirty...have you ever kissed a girl? I didn’t think so. There’s a whole world out there. When I was your age I didn’t watch television. I lived! So...move out of yourparents’ basements! And get your own apartments and grow the hell up! I mean, it’s just a TV show, dammit, it’s just a TV show!”
    It was meant to be a joke. I was kidding. I was just having a little fun, making fun of myself and the whole phenomenon. I mean, please. What kind of reader are you to think I was being serious? Get your head out of those books and watch more television! Then you’ll know that Saturday Night Live is a comedy show, not a documentary. In fact, if you want