Many years ago I attended a comic book/media convention in
the Roanoke VA area. We’re talking decades past. This was back in the times
when I was in good shape and sometimes people would tell me that I was
physically attractive. To tell you the truth, I have no idea what makes a male
physically attractive, but I looked like this when the convention took place:
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| Photo by my older brother, Mark. |
I’m not saying I was good looking. Just posting this for the
story.
Normally I would attend a convention with at least one other
person to help with set-up and retail. But this time I had to go alone. I don’t
recall why, but no one was available to travel with me. So I set up the tables
and did all of the selling by myself. I don’t recall speaking to many people
other than customers that day except for a convention organizer who I asked to
watch my tables while I had a bathroom break that first day (of a two-day
show).
Attending this show as guests were several comic book
artists and their media guest was Grace Lee Whitney of Star Trek semi-fame.
After the dealer’s room was closed I went back to my room,
watched some TV, and then went to sleep. I had to get up early to get ready for
the next day’s sales.
I got up about 5:30 am and had already taken my shower and
was dressing when the phone rang. The front desk had connected someone to the
phone in my room.
“James Smith?” I immediately recognized the voice as the
convention chairman.
“Yes. What’s goin’ on?” I hoped that there had not been a
problem with the dealers room during the night.
“Well…I don’t know how to ask this other than just to ask
it,” he said. Seriously. This is what he said.
“Go ahead.”
“Is Grace Lee Whitney with you?”
All kinds of What the Fuck went off in my mind.
“What?” I asked
“Is Grace Lee Whitney with you?”
“Are you serious?”
“We can’t find her. She wandered off last night after the
panel and no one can find her. She’s not in her room and no one has seen her
since about nine last night.”
“Okay,” says I. “But why in Hell would you think she would
be here in my room?”
“Well…she mentioned to a couple of the team yesterday that
she thought you were good looking.”
I was quiet after that for a few seconds. Had to let it sink
in.
“Well, she is not here. In fact, not only is she not here, I
have never met her. I never even saw her yesterday. I was stuck in the dealers
room all day. ”
“Okay. We’re desperate.”
Tell me about it.
And, before I could
end the conversation: “She’s really not with you?”
“No, she is not with me. I swear it. Well, I have to get
ready to get some breakfast and check out and make the dealers room before it
opens.”
“All right. Thanks.” He hung up.
I assume they found her. I don’t know. As with
most conventions I attended back in those days I was stuck behind a dealers
table for the duration of the show and could never attend panels or special
events. So I just figured she showed up at some point. It was only much later
that I heard of Whitney’s problems with alcohol. I don’t know if this was a
contributing factor. Maybe she just wanted some alone time. If so, she certainly
found it. Just not with me.
Or the convention organizer may have been bored at six in the morning and decided to screw with my head. I rather doubt it, but...well...it's a possibility.
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| "Captain. This does not compute." |
