When I found out that I had been approved for a media pass to the Vancouver Star Trek convention I had mixed feelings. On the one hand it was my idea to cover the event, and as a huge movie buff I should have been jumping at the chance to report on one of the biggest film series of all time. On the other hand, I’ve never even seen an episode of Star Trek, and when I was growing up there was nothing less cool than being a Trekkie. I anticipated sweaty-palmed basement-dwelling mouth-breathers and greasy-haired anti-social weirdos that could speak Klingon or thought nothing sexier than a Star Fleet Commander. In a word, I expected losers.

Set phasers to stunned.

Writer’s Log: Star date June 26, 2010.

The convention was hosted at the swank Sheraton Wall Centre downtown. The sheer glass facade made the structure look like a futuristic obelisk that might have been found on any Class M planet.

I arrived early and followed a young group of girls painted green up the stairs. We all queued up for registration where I learned that they were SFU students from a media demographics class doing a project on nerd culture. We all agreed that they were in the right spot.

The only part of the convention up and running was the vendor room with its tables littered with Star Trek memorabilia. Everything from t-shirts, mugs, bath towels, bed sheets and autographed prints were on display. There was even a silent auction for limited-edition phasers and scale models of the Starship Enterprise.

A few of the booths were manned by quasi-celebrities. I overheard Barry Jenner, better known as Admiral William Ross from Deep Space Nine in a serious argument with a fanboy over the merits of deep space exploration. Visibly giddy young-men approached Chase Masterson, the sexpot Leeta from DS9 and happily handed over the $40 required for an autographed print. But by far the most popular personality on hand was Max Grodenchik who played Rom from Deep Space Nine. He had a long lineup that waited to shake his hand and ask some questions.

I spotted a young girl striding confidently through the middle of the room. She was painted blue from head to toe and wearing a Star Fleet uniform that looked like the real deal. I asked her for a photo and she shyly posed, hands on hips, but smiling wide. Her name was Johanna Nielsen and she explained that she was dressed as an Andorian from the original series:

“I love to dress up in costumes and I do love Star Trek.” She said that she’s been in to it from a very young age. “My parents got me in to it. They wouldn’t let me watch the Original Series but then they took me to the first movie and I was like, ‘Why haven’t you showed me all of this?!”

An older couple sidled up and pokes their heads into our interview. Kathy and Martin Nielsen were in full regalia and beamed proudly when Johanna told them she was being interviewed. Joanna blushed like she was embarrassed by her parents’ enthusiasm, but it was apparent that they were close.

After asking dozens of convention-goers what got them in to the show and the Star Trek universe, it became apparent that passing the fandom down from one generation to the next was a common Trekkie recruiting method. This family bond spoke to the tight-knit community of the culture I was starting to see. Fathers and mothers and sons and daughters, all having a shared experience.

I bumped into one of the SFU girls again and discovered that 25-year-old Katie Nordgren is also a second generation Trekkie:

“My mom had a huge boner for Picard and I had a little-kid crush on Wesley [Crusher]. Then I forgot about it for a long time and somebody mentioned that DS9 was a lot sexier and more exciting and I got back in to it.”

I asked Katie what she thought of the Star Trek community and what it was that made the fervent polularity of the program so enduring.

“It’s definitely a little Evangelical and vaguely religious. The Star Trek universe is very Socialist and I think that appeals to the lower-income demographic that I think you’ll find make up the majority of the people here. What’s depicted is a future that is post-scarcity. Nobody goes hungry, everybody has shelter and everybody’s biggest concern is diplomacy. It’s a beautiful future…. and everybody wears tight clothes.”

Katie’s comments were an eye opener. In our current world of economic peril and environmental disaster, it only makes sense that people would be drawn to this idealized fictional future.

I headed back to the vendor room and snapped a few photos of the merchandise. Sean Koo was manning a collectible trading card table. The 29-year-old Langley resident invited me to sit behind the table and look at some merchandise while we talk. I asked him what he thought of the Vancouver convention.

“This is nothing compared to the Las Vegas convention,” he said, referring to the event held in Sin City that attracts tens of thousands of the most rabid Star Trek fans each year.

I asked him if he thought Vancouver had a strong sect of Trekkies.

“I didn’t think so at first, but after seeing this turnout and all the people I’m starting to change my mind. The last convention was way back in 1995 so I’m glad to see it come back.”

I purchased an Original Series Spock card for five dollars and cut off a young couple crossing the floor holding hands. They told me they’d driven all the way up from Seattle to attend the convention. Shibonne Crawford was completely covered in green and told me that her boyfriend Chris Bayne, adorned in a yellow Star Fleet tunic was responsible for her newfound love of all things Trek and that the show had given them something to share and brought them closer together as a couple. Bayne offered up an explanation as to why Star Trek has such a dedicated following:

“It’s a good vision of the future and everybody wishes it was real. It’s all about bettering the human condition, and I think that’s something everybody can relate to.”

We finished up and the vendor room seemed suddenly empty. A lone Klingon warrior got a final autograph from Ms. Masterson and scurried out the door. I figured there must be some action in the theatre room downstairs.

Was there ever.

Vaughn Armstrong is a veteran of the franchise, having appeared in small roles in every series except the original. He stood on the stage and had the crowd in hysterics, fielding a question from a Star Fleet officer and working the audience like a Vegas showroom veteran.

The general seating was packed with lifeforms from all across the universe. They politely waited in line to ask questions ranging from the actor’s favourite episode to their most recent projects. Vaughn had the audience howling, regaling them with tales from behind the scenes and offering insider tid bits of trivia that the die-hards have paid to hear. After he was done it was time for Grodenchik, and if the audience loved Vaughn they idolized Grodenchik.

The exaltation of these small-time actors who wouldn’t set off a single flashbulb on any other red carpet was amusing. But there was something wholesome about it all – like an uncle telling his awestruck nephews old war stories – and people of all ages, creeds and colours handed out homemade snacks, politely posing for pictures with each other and offering their seats to those standing. They were friends even though they’d never met before.

There was a buzz in the air as the keynotes came to an end, and truth be told, I was feeling a bit euphoric myself. I realized that I hadn’t eaten since I got there, but there was no Romulan ale or Plomeek soup readily available so I exited the convention and stepped back into the real world, where people mock Trekkies and brush off sci-fi fanatics without ever truly experiencing the culture or understanding what it is that binds these people together.

It’s not the explosions or the special effects. It’s not the space soap opera or the fast paced-action adventure. It’s the sense of belonging and community. It’s the longing for a better present and future. And judging from what I witnessed at the Vancouver Star Trek Convention, it’s a community here that will live long and prosper.