Where to Draw the Line?

Marina Sirtis (Counseler Deanna Troy in STNG) and Brent

This is a subject I have touched before, also because a lot of times I have found myself right in the middle of those typical fan-meets-idol situations and because I come across a lot of fans…online.


This time the trigger was the question why Brent is so distant, especially on conventions, towards fans. The answer is, some fans have behaved badly around him and towards him in his personal life, like stealing roof tiles and making threatening calls to his girlfriend. Yeah, I can understand perfectly well why that made him cautious. Of course it’s true it’s only a small group of fans who behave badly, but how can you tell the bad apples apart from the rest of the apples, especially when they turn up in droves? So yeah, I think Brent’s kept distance and his refusal to do certain things, are justified.




I can climb on my soapbox again and whine and protest like I’ve done many times before. I choose not to do that. Instead I like to tell you about one of my own fan-meets-idol experiences. Actually, it wasn’t a fan-meets-idol situation, rather a fan-goes-to-idol’s-privat-house situation. The year was I think 2000. I was not alone, two other fans were with me. I was in London for the first time. Let me start at the start.

It was in the year the Queen musical had its first run. Because I was a much more devoted and active Queen fan at the time I signed up to join some other fans on a roadtrip to London. It would be my first time in London.
We booked three seats on a coach which went from Rotterdam to Calais. In Calais the coach would go on a ferry and cross the North Sea to Dover. In Dover we would board the coach again and continue our trip towards London. We left from Rotterdam in the evening and we’d be traveling all through the night. Arrival in London would be some time around 5 or 6 in the morning.

Not Freddie's house, but the entrance
to the Dominion

When we arrived on Victoria coach station no shops were yet opened and there was hardly anyone about. We had to kill the first two hours on the station, hanging sleepy in the uncomfortabel plastic chairs. Boredom soon drove us out of the station and into the city in search for the first Baker to open his doors and offer us fresh bread and coffee. I remember my first contact with London being smelly. I remember Victoria coach station very well, also since it didn’t really change in between then and now. I remember there being a vague plan that included getting the musical tickets which one of my fellow travellers had not managed to get beforehand. I also remember the plan to go to Freddie Mercury’s house where his good friend Mary (forgot her last name) still lived.

We went for breakfast and coffee first since the ticket booth at the venue didn’t open until 10 am. I vaguely remember arriving early for the tickets and managing to get tickets for the afternoon show around 3 pm. It would be possible, but it left us very little time to get back to the coach station to accept the travel back home. Yes, we only stayed one day, we had no hotel reservations. Anyway, we got our ticket and decided to travel to Kensington and find Freddie’s house. There’s really not that much to tell about, mainly because there is only one thing I remember. That one thing was for me the reason to write this blog post.

Here it comes:

We arrived at the house late in the morning or early in the afternoon. I don’t quite remember. There was a wall all around the house. Looking up, I could only see one window and nothing much more. On the brick wall there was writing; I could tell the wall had been repainted many times to cover all the writing. I realized that would never really stop. One of my fellow travellers produced a pen or sharpie, something to write with. They proceeded to leave a message on the tiled ground. God knows to who, Freddie had been dead for nearly 10 years and I’m sure they didn’t give a freakin’ damn about Mary. Both my travelling companions left their messages on the ground, then the writing implement was handed to me. I refused. I’m a decent person who doesn’t write on other people’s belongings, no matter how important or famous they might be. They tried to convince me it was all right, everybody did it. I refused again arguing that I found it impolite and indecent. They egged me on and on….I’m proud to say I stood my ground; I never signed the…uh….ground.

You see, I’ve got my principles. They’re only human. They got their talents, I got mine. I really don’t see why they should be more celebrated for being able to play an instrument, sing or for pretending to be someone else. I don’t see why their belongings should be covered in ridiculous writings or stolen because of who they are. I don’t have my picture taken with them, I hardly ever ask for autographs and I’ll hang back while they’re handling their more insisting fans.

Promo for Fresh Hell. Read next post if you want to know more

I’m a fan of their work. That is what I want, that is what I’ll take (I do pay for it). That is what I appreciate them for, but it doesn’t make me think they’re more worth because of it. They can’t put me down, because I don’t play an instrument or because I’m not a good singer or actor. They might contribute more to culture, but I contribute more to society. In the end, it all goes hand in hand. We should respect them and their privacy as much as we like ourselves and our privacy be respected. I know there’s a price to pay for being famous, but does that really mean that we can pull any string to have them dancing to our demands anyway we want? I don’t think so.

Respect were respect is due.

I would still like to meet Mr. Brent Spiner. I just want to be able to look him in the eyes and see for myself. It’s up to him how he wants to deal with me. I can only hope we will be equally respectful to each other.

This is funny:

>He was walking in my directions and I commented to those in the car
>that it looked like DATA (the walk was unmistakable). As I pulled the car out to
>finish the U-turn, he passed us and got into a small, compact car (like a Toyota)
>and pulled past me. I laughed so hard to see it *was* DATA! :-)

I don't know what would have amused me more ... seeing Brent Spiner on the street or seeing Data in a Toyota!

As a Star Trek fan, I appreciate this one as well:

Well, if that is how he feels then I guess it might be time to hang up the

Ol' Yellow Eyes and head on to other places where no man has gone before.

Source: https://groups.google.com/forum/#!topic/alt.tv.star-trek.next-gen/4MZi-IHoHPM