A Tear for R2

As I have revealed in the past (with Nerds Gone Wild), once every year I trek out to meet with my fellow dorks at Gen Con the worlds largest gathering of Dungeons & Dragons players and, not coincidentally, incredibly overweight and introverted individuals that dont get out much, if at all.

In all years past, Gen Con had taken place in Milwaukee, but this year was different. Because it had outgrown its city of origin, this years festival was in Indianapolis. Now, I dont know if any of you have ever been to this city which I hesitate to even call a city but imagine a big parking lot with a few buildings here and there. Thats downtown Indianapolis. So unbelievably sparse is this town, that upon arrival to our hotel, I said to my friends, Christ, if were out here in bumwad central, how far away are we from the convention center where Gen Con is? We were across the street from it.

Being that there really is nowhere else to go within walking distance from the convention center, the most popular restaurant for the Gen Con connoisseur was the TGI Fridays attached to our hotel. So popular, in fact, that when we went there at 6 pm on Friday night, the place was packed to the brim. The only place we could get immediate seating was the bar, so we bellied up to a standing table with some other nerds, and joined in on conversations about favorite characters and debates about crossbows versus longbows.

So there I was, in a Fridays on a Friday having a fringe culture conversation with a fringe group that didnt fit in with culture. And thats when I saw him. Though I am no Star Wars fan (a firm believer that Back to the Future is the greatest trilogy of all time), for some reason I recognized him at the bar. So I turned to my friend and said, Hey, isnt that the dude that played Darth Maul? My friend told me that yes it was him, but that wasnt all. He was with a group of no less that 10 other Star Warsian actors.

Opportunity, they say, only knocks once, and I could see that this would be my only shot at making this the best Gen Con of all time for this table full of dorkaramises. I bought our table a round of shots, and a round for all the space thespians at the bar. We all waited patiently for them to inevitably ask who the liquor came from, and when they did, a hearty, drunken nerd yell came from our table and then it happened. The Star Wars crew came and joined us.

My feeling of accomplishment, of having made my fellow nerds cum so hard they shot their wads in their own eyes, was immeasurable. However, I could only bathe in the glory for so long, before my mind rest upon the sad situation I saw unfolding. With us was a gaggle of bit players who had but brief moments in a single piece of a sci fi sextuplet, yet the most famous of the group was thoroughly ignored. Kenny Baker, the midget that played R2-D2, sat alone and away from our table, drinking by himself with no one even bothering to talk to him.

Shouldnt R2 be the centerpiece of this gathering? I thought, imagining him standing on our table regaling us with a tale of how he poked C3POs ass with a stick one time. I wondered why the one who was definitely the most famous of the group was being ignored. Was the old guard not cool anymore now that Jango Fett and Darth Maul were here?

Before this thought process could escape my brain and find its way to my lips, though, my friends decided that the growing crowd around us was growing too desperate and manic. Better to be playing Settlers of Catan in our room than be surrounded by ravenous fanatics.

When I awoke on Saturday afternoon, I had two goals to be insanely fucking high while wandering around Gen Con, and to go see the autograph signing booths (the reason for the large Star Wars presence). As luck would have it, my goals collided. While insanely fucking high I wandered past the Star Wars signing booths, and peered inside.

There I saw throngs of people waiting in line to get a moniker of their favorite character placed upon an 8x10 glossy. Queues at least 10 deep formed for every actor save one. Kenny Bakers table was empty, a painful void in this ecstatic mass of fandom. It was there, probably because I was insanely fucking high, that I began to cry for R2.

But before I could run to him and hold him in my arms, stroke his hair and say, Its okay R2, youve always been my favorite droid. I became distracted&by tinfoil or something&I dont know. As I said, I was insanely fucking high. I wandered off.

That night, after many a soda, I lay awake as everyone else in our room tried to go to sleep. In my restless state, a plan of action came to mind. I awoke everyone to tell them everything that I had seen, and to declare that tomorrow, Sunday, the last day of Gen Con, we would all go to the autograph booth and pay for R2s signature. We would thank him profusely, declare our never ending delight at how he worked inside a can like no other, and let him know that no other Star Wars actors flame burned quite so brightly within our heart of hearts. Wanting to go back to sleep, everyone agreed that this is what we would do.

We awoke, packed, loaded the car, and then set out immediately to fulfill the previous nights declared mission. As we made our way to the convention center, I planned out what I, the first to get Kennys autograph, would say.

Oh my God, I cant believe youre here. Ive been a fan of Star Wars since forever, and you were always my favorite character. Oh man, Im so excited, I can feel my hair growing. Have you ever had that feeling? You have? Wow! Oh God, Im rambling. Listen to me, getting all crazy. But seriously, I traveled all the way from New York, and this makes my whole trip! R2-D2 in the flesh, or should I say, out of the can? HA, HA! I think Im going to throw up. Youre amazing!

I went to the autograph entryway, I paid my $20 for an autograph (rip off, right?), and I led my friends to the empty table of Kenny Baker. I set down my photo of R2, and was ready to go into my spiel when Kennys assistant asked me, So what do you want him to sign?

Having never thought of this, I answered, Uh, I dont know, like Bee, Boop, Bop, Beep I guess.

Kennys assistant then put a marker in his hand, helping him to wrap his stubby fingers around the writing utensil, and very slowly explained to Kenny what I wanted written. Kenny then began writing, with a shaky hand and his tongue extended in extreme concentration, the seven words that would take him 15 minutes to complete.

Five minutes in, after my friends had deserted me for less emotionally excruciating autographs, the reality of what I had incorrectly perceived began to sink in. People werent ignoring Kenny Baker, they just couldnt handle seeing this. The great R2-D2 struck down by a stroke, still being taken to conventions, trying to make money the only way he could any longer.

I couldnt help it, I began to laugh. Not wanting to embarrass the already thoroughly embarrassing, I tried to hold my chuckles in. But this only made me want to laugh harder, and tears began to well up in my eyes from holding back.

As he finished his signing, Kenny looked up to me and saw the tears, and then he began to cry, genuinely touched that I was either so happy or so sad to see him. And I lost it.

Half laughing, half crying, I just started blabbing, Thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you!

Kenny dropped the marker and shook my hand. With much trouble and a few pauses, he said Youre welcome.

As I left, holding my autographed photo in one hand, wiping tears off with the other, I realized that yeah, I guess R2-D2 is my favorite droid after all.

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