I saw Star Trek today with my friend Renee. And it was fun. I need to see it again, because — and yes, I can’t go to the Alamo without having to rant about the Alamo. Look, I get it, I get that it’s cool, and they have food, but every time the server comes by it distracts me and that’s not how I want to see a movie. So I will see it again at a less hip theater and they will let me alone to watch the movie in peace.
It was fun. I said that. But it was. I have a confession to make — I had such a crush on Chekov when I was 11 or 12, which is the prime age for such crushes. The nonthreatening male — David Cassidy, Sean Cassidy, now Zac Ephron — the whole purpose of such a creature is for tweens to moon about. So when we first see Chekov I was all, “awwwwww!” There’s a new Chekov for a new generation of tweens to moon about! Cool. And his accent might have been authentic. Or at least, he comes by it honestly.
And I met Walter Koenig at a Star Trek convention when I was pregnant with K and was due in about 4 weeks. We — K and I — were at the end of a very long autograph line and Walter Koenig looked about as tired as I felt. He’d been signing autographs for hours. But he was nice and asked when I was due and I think I still have that autograph somewhere. And K is 19 so that was a long time ago.
(When I was 15 I transferred my affections to Han Solo, thus making the leap from crushing on a nonthreatening pop idol to quintessential bad boy basically right on schedule.)
The movie made me all nostalgic for the good times the old Trek provided.