digg

Join DiggAbout

Discover and share the best of the web!
Learn more about Digg by taking the tour.

Wil Wheaton's Geek in Review: The Big Goodbye, Part Two: Journey's End

suicidegirls.com — Wil continues his visit to the Star Trek TNG set: "...I shook hands with everyone and said goodbye. When I got out of the stage, and walked past the Hart building I stopped and looked at Gene's old office window one last time. Though I'd said goodbye to Gene at his funeral in 1991, I said goodbye to him again – and to so many other things"

Bury
show profanity settings
expand all
  • kenvsryu, on 10/24/2007, -65/+4Does this guy get dugg up cause his name looks like wii?
    • Anrkist, on 10/24/2007, -5/+30No.. because if there ever was a geek pimp, he would be it.

      When was the last time SG did an article on you? =p
    • TheUngod, on 10/11/2007, -16/+3Uh never, thank god. If SG did an article on someone chances are they would lose all credibility.
  • Sagebearz, on 10/11/2007, -12/+58


    Dear Wil,



    I don’t have the words to convey all of what I am thinking and feeling right now. I was what a friend called back in the day a “true believer”. I never got dressed up or went to cons, but I can say a large part of my teenage years was spent warming myself in front of a tiny black and white TV in my bedroom to the adventures of various crews of the USS Enterprise. You made Star Trek real for my friends and I by putting scope to the world and its characters. Here was a guy like us. Too smart for his own good in a place he did not belong and making the best of it.

    Now as an adult building a family of my own I find a great deal of humor, wisdom, and a sense of understanding from reading your words. I don’t usually turn on a computer without checking in to see what you may have “penned” recently. I have even quoted you from time to time. I have been a book junkie since I was able to waddle and having worked in the book industry since high school I have read a plethora of writers from all genres. I hope that you can hear me when I say that you are a good writer.

    Thank you for The Big Goodbye. Your images were vivid your feelings tangible, and honest. It takes courage to share intimate moments with everyone on the planet. It left me feeling a great deal of nostalgia of my own. Our lives are made of our experiences, both the good and the bad. How we define our lives is what we make of those experiences. You Sir are a rich man, for where you have been, and where you are. I want to thank you for your contribution to my life experiences. I look forward to seeing what you have in store for us in the future.

    Shawn


    • mstoneburner, on 10/11/2007, -49/+5That's pretty gay dude. Next time you want to make known your true feelings about someone, maybe you should send them a letter instead of logging into Digg. TIA.
    • directive0, on 10/24/2007, -3/+22sorry, mstoneburner, but there's quite a few of us who feel that way about TNG. I suggest if you're truly worried about reading something "gay" you stay away from the internet all together.
  • DreKor, on 10/11/2007, -3/+17On an interesting note, Suicide Girls isn't blocked by my company's firewall.
    • Shivetya, on 10/11/2007, -1/+5blocked by mine :(
    • Loie, on 10/11/2007, -2/+4yeah, mine either. ****NSFW****
    • lorean, on 10/11/2007, -1/+20Blocked now.

      Sincerely,
      Your Boss
    • DreKor, on 10/11/2007, -0/+3I'm not sure. My boss might be into this kind of thing.
    • Skalizar, on 10/11/2007, -0/+1Blocked here, but I can usually at least get the text of blocked sites through duggmirror, but that's not loading now. Don't know if it got blocked as well or if it's down.
  • MikeonTV, on 10/24/2007, -22/+5Waaaahhh Gene Roddenberry's dead and I have a blog, Waaaaah
  • SicklyTea, on 10/11/2007, -2/+10Maybe you should say NSFW in the description? I really look forward to explaining to my network admin how I was accidently on SG.
    • derkaas, on 10/11/2007, -2/+6Seriously. Me too. Not cool at all.
    • mklopez, on 10/24/2007, -1/+8Really sorry! I use flashblock and adblock on Firefox, and I tend to forget that SG is somewhat NSFW
  • meshman, on 10/11/2007, -8/+4Who needs automatic milking machines when you have Wil Wheaton?
  • arcangelgabriel, on 10/24/2007, -1/+14Wil's reviews of TNG episodes are a frikkin PANIC!

    Wil, More reviews please.

    Thanks
    AG
  • uofmpike, on 10/11/2007, -3/+2Wil was better in Toy Soldiers than TNG. I think it was the earring.
  • drakulon, on 10/11/2007, -3/+3Submitter, don't say sorry. On the top of the page, the source says suicidegirls.com . It shouldn't be your fault that people can't look at the description.
    • SicklyTea, on 10/11/2007, -0/+1Wrong- NSFW is expected with that kind of site, in big lettering. That is why it's NSFW and not nsfw.
  • jlawson1, on 10/24/2007, -1/+7I think he should get up with Ron and try to get a part on BSG....
  • Bkaufman, on 10/11/2007, -1/+2Can someone paste this in so that those of us at work can read it?
  • simplejoe79, on 10/11/2007, -1/+1nice article.....
  • PamalaLauren, on 10/11/2007, -5/+2Sniff Sniff, NOT! God I can't stand that man!
  • dpdesign, on 10/11/2007, -2/+3Buried because of suicide girls.
  • directive0, on 10/11/2007, -2/+9As requested by the people behind firewalls or afraid of their IT admins, the entire article as it appears on SG.




    Last time . . .

    The crew got the camera and sound equipment together and loaded it on a cart that looked heavy and awkward.

    "Do you know a fast and preferably easy way to get over there from here?" the camera man asked me.

    I couldn't suppress a smile. "Yeah. I do."



    We headed out of the stage and back past the Hart building.

    "See that window?" I said. "That used to be Gene's office."

    "Mmmm," came the reply.

    "Nobody is going to care about these things like you do," I thought. "Just keep it to yourself."

    I looked at the window just a little bit longer. I recalled watching Shatner's infamous "Get a Life" sketch on 3/4-inch video tape in Gene's office with some of my friends who worked there during the second season.

    A few Trekkie VIPs were there on a tour, and they watched it with us. (In the pre-Internet days, it was not very easy to watch that sketch on demand – come to think of it, thanks to NBC's armada of lawyers and the DMCA, it's just as hard today.) At one point in the sketch, Shatner says, "That was the evil Captain Kirk from episode 37, The Enemy Within . . ." and all of the Trekkies derisively snorted in unison, "YOU MEAN EPISODE FOUR!" I looked at my friend, who very subtly shook his head. These were Big Deal Trekkies; pointing out that they'd just brought the sketch into the real world would have created some problems.

    Back in the present, I laughed out loud, and a couple of the crew looked at me. "Memories," I said.

    I led them across the lot, on a route that would appear circuitous to anyone who didn't work there for the better part of four years. On the way to the stage, I passed the same familiar and significant landmarks from my youth that I wrote about in Just A Geek: That's where I met Eddie Murphy when I was sixteen . . . Hey! I crashed a golf cart there when I was fifteen . . . There's the mail room . . . There's stage six, where the bridge set started out . . . I almost got up the courage to kiss that girl at the Christmas party on that stage in . . . there's the stage where Shatner told me, "I'd never let a kid come onto my bridge."

    The next line in Just A Geek is ". . . this street feels exactly the way it did when I worked here . . . here's where my trailer used to be . . .” Though I stood in that same place, it didn't feel the same, at all. Different trailers were there, filled with different actors working on different shows, but that wasn't why I just couldn't deny that twenty years had passed since I started working here. Maybe it was the knowledge that Star Trek is really gone for good, at least the way I knew it. Maybe it was the pain in my hip . . . or the responsibility on my shoulders. Maybe it was the fact that I have two sons who are older than I was when I started working on the series. Most likely, it was a combination of all those things.

    I walked a bit farther, to the entrance to stages 8 and 9. In the hallway between them, where our security guard stopped tourists and Trekkies from coming onto the sets, where our bulletin board for callsheets, shooting schedules, and my brief foray into editorial cartoons used to be, there was now some sort of big, loud . . . something, with a fan and a bunch of pipes running out of it. As much as it should have prepared me, I was just gutted when I opened the stage nine door. Instead of seeing the back of a turbolift and a corridor leading to the transporter room and engineering, I saw a bunch of sets under construction. Sets that were quite clearly houses and other rooms set squarely in the 21st – not the 24th – century.

    "Wow," I thought. "It's all . . . gone."

    I stood in that open doorway for a long time and just stared, working hard to replace the reality inside the stage with the memories inside my head.

    ". . . ready?"

    "I'm sorry, what?"

    "Are you ready?" The producer asked.

    "Uh, yeah." I reluctantly let the door close.

    "It's too loud here to shoot, so we're set up behind the stage." He said.

    I followed him down the street, past where my school room – what was effectively all of high school for me – used to be. There was a production golf cart for Everyone Hates Chris there now. I lingered briefly.

    Moments later, we were set up in the alley behind the stage, just outside a giant open door. I looked inside. Where Sickbay once was, there was a set that looked like a child's room. Where the Holodeck once stood (and all the shuttlecraft interiors were shot) there was a large drop cloth and a several cans of paint. Where Picard used to command the battle bridge – one of my all-time favorite sets – there was a tropical backdrop.

    I sighed and blinked back some tears.

    "Everything okay?" The producer asked.

    "Yeah," I said. "I'm just overwhelmed by a sadness right now that I can't really explain."

    "I understand," he said. "This happens whenever we work with someone from Next Generation. I don't know what it was about you guys, but every single one of you loved each other and remembers working on the show very fondly."

    "I didn't know that," I said, around a lump in my throat. "But I'm not surprised. I . . . I really miss those guys."

    For the next few hours, we filmed host wraps. I told stories about my time on Star Trek to anyone who would listen, and a few who wouldn't.

    In front of stage 16, where this photo was taken, I recalled an encounter with Lawrence Tierney (best known as Joe in Reservoir Dogs), who played Holodeck tough guy Cyrus Redblock.

    "Hey," he said to me one afternoon between scenes, "do you play football?"

    I was 15 at the time, and weighed 95 pounds . . . if I was soaking wet and carrying a ten-pound weight.

    "Uh, no," I said.

    He leaned into me, menacingly.

    "Why the hell not? What are you, some kind of sissy *****?"

    I panicked, certain that he was going to beat the ***** out of me because I was more comfortable throwing 3d6 than a pigskin.

    "I'm not strong enough to play football!" I said.

    "Well, maybe you wouldn't be so weak if you played football!" he growled.

    An assistant director arrived just in time to call us to the set and save me from certain death.

    "Everyone has their own story about Planet Hell," the producer said, pulling me back to 2007, "but yours is the first one that includes a fear of death unrelated to atmospheric smoke."

    "Boy, we sure like to complain about that smoke. Did you know it was mineral oil-based?" I said.

    "After all the cast interviews I've done over the years, I know everything in the world there is to know about that smoke." He said, dryly.

    Now it was my turn to laugh.

    When the day was over, we headed back to stage 24, where they were set up to interview Ron Moore.

    "How's it going?" I said to him when he walked into the stage.

    "It's weird," he said. "This is the first time I've been here in years."

    He looked around and his voice softened. "Did you know there aren't any writers left in the Hart building? Brannon is moving out, and he was the last one. It's just a bunch of accountants right now."

    "That's poetic," I said.

    He looked away for a moment and furrowed his brow.

    "It's just . . . I look around here and –"

    "I know." I said. "I totally grok."

    We talked for a few more minutes, until they were ready for his interview.

    "I will kick myself later if if I don't tell you how much I continue to love Battlestar," I said before I left. I didn't get up the nerve to add, "and I'd really love to work on it if you have anything for me, because it's just about the best sci-fi on television, ever." Later on, I kicked myself, and delivered one more to Jenny and the wimp.

    "It's always good to see you," he said.

    "Thanks, man. You too."

    I shook hands with everyone and said goodbye. When I got out of the stage, and walked past the Hart building I stopped and looked at Gene's old office window one last time. Though I'd said goodbye to Gene at his funeral in 1991, I said goodbye to him again – and to so many other things.

    On my way back to the valet, I walked past the commissary, where I ate grilled mustard chicken with curly fries a few times a week during much of the series. I remembered a day, during the third season, when I didn't have a lot of cash on hand and no credit card, so my server got severely under-tipped. I planned to make it up to him the next day, but when I walked in, he silenced the entire commissary by running toward me from the back, screaming at me for stiffing him the day before. It was the first and last time in my life I wanted someone to be fired for the way they treated me. Strangely, I still feel bad that I unintentionally stiffed the guy. Funny how those things stay with you and come back when you least expect them to.

    Just past the commissary, where there used to be a company store that sold T-shirts and satin jackets celebrating the wearer's affinity for Cheers, there was now a smaller company store that included a Coffee Bean. I stepped into the same room where I once bought really cheesy TNG T-shirts and insanely cool tiny communicator pins for my friends and family, and bought myself an iced green tea.

    I made my way back to the valet, where I traded my orange ticket with numbers on it for my car. While I waited for it to arrive, I struggled to put the nostalgia and associated sadness of the day into perspective. I didn't mourn the loss of my sets, as much as I mourned the time in my life those sets represented: a time when my biggest responsibility was knowing my lines and getting to the set on time, not coming up with college tuition for the next four years. A time when KROQ played music that was relevant to me, and I knew all the DJs. A time when my biggest problem in the world was getting out of costume and makeup early enough to make it to the Forum for a Kings game. A time when my life was simpler and easier, when I had the luxury of taking for granted that I would always have everything I wanted and my opportunities were as numerous as the little mirrored stars on the black velvet starfield that hung behind Ten Forward on stage 9 . . . stars that are, most likely, cut up into hundreds of little bits to be doled out at auction for the next decade.

    But, complicated as it is, I really like my life. I have a beautiful wife and two children who, though they don't carry my DNA, are clearly mine in every way that matters. I'm not going to be buying a boat any time soon, but I have been able to touch lives as a writer in ways that I never could have when I wore a spacesuit, just reading the words that other people thought I should say.

    The valet brought my car around, and I gave him a couple bucks from my front pocket.

    "Thank you, sir," he said.

    Goddamn, it's weird to be “sir."

    "No problem."

    I got in my car and headed toward a red light on Van Ness, where a big decision loomed: turn left and drive back over Los Feliz, the way I always used to drive? Or make a right and head down across Beverly?

    Luckily, this was an easy one. I hit my blinker and began my voyage home.

    Wil Wheaton doesn't need to walk around in circles.
  • ColdChilli, on 10/11/2007, -0/+1It even crashed duggmirror !
  • lagrange, on 10/11/2007, -7/+2Shouldn't you be washing down the fryer in a burger king?

    Get a life loser.
  • anodos, on 10/24/2007, -1/+7I'm roughly the same age as Wil and watched STNG for most of its life. I must say, in the last few years I have had similar experiences with nostalgia as Wil describes. It is weird. I remember older people describing this to me when I was a teenager, and thought I understood what they were saying. But, as a teenager, there is just no way for you to comprehend what these expanses of time feel like. By the age of 30, one has had the experience (probably several times over) of seeing people who were only children when you were a teenager get married and have children of their own. For the first time, you begin to get a feel for the number of years until you will be 40, 50, 60. As a teenager, those seemed so far away that they didn't even really exist.
    But there is something about going back to a place you knew as a child or a teenager for the first time in many years. At first, your memories only feel a few weeks old... but then it hits you... it was 16 years ago. And then it hits you that these places you lived in and played in will never be "yours" again. You will never play like that again. You will never live there again. You will never re-experience any of those things you thought would be "forever" as a kid. They are locked away in your past, and can only be remembered. You realize, probably for the first time, that those years were a season of your life gone forever.
  • griffin7, on 10/24/2007, -0/+6WW was a favorite character of mine on this show. I always resented that they wrote him out of the show, and thought it a mistake.

    Anyway, I did not see WW in much acting after that.

    Having read the interview, I see how special it was to him to be a part of Startrek, and more importantly, how he seems to have adapted and moved on in his life.

    I wish him the best!
  • balisunset, on 07/04/2008, -0/+1yeah...I remember watching this series in early 90's, when I'm still in high school
    such a long time ago

    make me want to read a funeral poem to Gene too
    http://funeralpoemscollection.blogspot.com/
  •  

    Login or register to add a comment

    Create a new account or login to join in the conversation on Digg. You'll also be able to Digg stories to help promote things you like.


© Digg Inc. 2008 — Content posted by Digg users is dedicated to the public domain.
DIGG, DIGG IT, DUGG, DIGG THIS, Digg graphics, logos, designs, page headers, button icons, scripts, and other service names are the trademarks of Digg Inc.