Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I had a close encounter with a nasty klingon at a Star Trek Convention in Toronto several years ago.

Usually, I’ve always enjoyed attending these insane gatherings, the epoch of all things geek and nerd. (I can say that without malice because I am proud to count myself among them.)

The costumes are never disappointing. They are always visually stunning and realistic.

Upon arrival, I found myself getting into an elevator with three Borg. Every detail was perfect.

I got chills.

Signing in, I had to wait in line with creatures from one end of the universe to the other. It was quite hard not to stare, or even know what not to stare at.

Then there was the Klingon Karaoke Event. Let me say, that you have not lived until you’ve seen Klingons drunk on Blood Wine up at the microphone singing “I Just Wanna Be Your Teddy Bear.”

Then, they really brought the house down with “I’m a Barbie Girl.”

Part of the ritualistic experience is the Vendor’s Fair.

Wandering from one kiosk to another, I suddenly found myself surrounded by Klingon Bat’leths, Daqtaghs and other fine weaponry worthy of Kalis himself.

Behind the counter watching me intently with his arms folded across his chest was a massive and utterly imposing Klingon Warrior. Next to him was his equally impressive and busty female companion.

Trying to ignore them, I took my time admiring the jewelry, sashes, uniforms, books and of course, the weaponry.

Running out of patience and obviously eager for a sale, the male Klingon suddenly lunged at me.

With his face only inches from mine he roared….

“BUY …..

…..OR DIE!”

I did neither, and managed to get to safety.

Obviously his barktlh was worse than his biteska.

Advertisements