Vegas Day 3

Assimilate me

I made it to two paper sessions this morning before it was time to cut out to for the rest and relaxation part of the trip. The Star Trek experience was a hoot. Although I’d run into several people at the conference who were looking for company, I went alone, as is proper for religious experiences. I wish Chris and Laura could’ve gone with me though. I think Will’s not quite old enough yet to be assimilated. Although I did buy him a Borg teddy bear at one of the promenade gift shops, so evidently he’s not totally outside their marketing range.

I had the Captain Janeway salad at Quark’s Bar and Restaurant. I went through the rides and the museum several times each. I managed to resist assimilation by the Borg on four separate occasions. As I was about to wrap it up, I ran into some people from the conference, one of whom took my picture with a Ferengi. I’d go back again, especially if I could go with my family. But, as is always the case when you meet the mighty, it was sort of disappointing. The phasers and tricorders in the display cases in the museum all looked like props—which you know they are, but you hate to lose the mystique. The uniforms looked just like on the show (since they were in fact the actors’ uniforms), but they demonstrated an alarming tendency in the Federation towards anorexia. Perhaps I’m exaggerating a bit—but certainly they wouldn’t have had any uniforms in my size if I went back to the Academy. It was a fairly postmodern afternoon, a day spent immersed in Federation culture and simultaneously aware that all the officers in the rides were awfully young.

I had time for one more conference session afterwards, and then off to the hotel for the red-eye flight home. Even the red-eye was sort of a let down—just a bunch of normal folks on Eastern time in the far west wondering when on earth we’d ever get home.
I saw Elvis about a dozen times, heard the Blues Brothers (or some reasonable facsimile thereof) sing, watched a fake Rod Stewart who looked even more run-down than the real thing dealing poker. I never saw anybody win any money, and most of the dancers I saw were mostly dressed. I have to confess to spending a large part of my time hidden upstairs in the conference areas, even when I wasn’t presenting, because it was just safer up there. I suppose that’s lucky for me, since the conference motto was “What happens in Vegas will be reported to Galactic Overlord 10” or something to that effect. He must be bored with my report.