Flight Director Ben during the Leadership Camp
A Quiet Place in front of the Library Door.
It is 11:07 P.M. Thursday night. We are in the thick of a Super Overnight Camp. Twelve campers are maneuvering deeper and deeper into the plot of Mercy Strike. The hallways are darkened and staff and volunteers are spread up and down the length of the school waiting for the crew to beam out of the Voyager and into the alien set - a Romulan prison camp.
The Voyager's Staff during the Leadership Camp.
You see what happens when I turn my back for an instant?
Pandemonium, Anarchy and the Breakdown of Civil Society!
The Space Center was closed Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday to celebrate Independence Day. The Leadership Camp was brutal on the staff. The break was well deserved. Supposedly we are rested and ready for the big push to finish the summer season on July 31. Three Edventure Camps, two Day Camps, several Overnight Camps, one Super Overnight Camp and a slew of private parties can be seen emerging from the dark in the light from our headlights. Its a tough schedule. I wonder what I was thinking when I set it up last February.
One of the campers, a Mr. Flynn, just walked by. I believe he just returned from the Galileo on some side trip - a subplot complimenting the primary storyline.
A real treat! I saw the Red Blemish, the Space Center's very own failed superhero, in the school's hallway. His bright red, nearly floor length trench coat gave him away. What brings The Red Blemish to our humble school this evening?
He just walked by my desk. My presence wasn't noticed. He was focused on something. Perhaps "M, The Destroyer of Worlds" lurks in the darkened halls, waiting to ensnare our campers. We will know within the next few minutes. The landing party is about to begin.
It will be a long night. The campers won't go to bed until 2:00 A.M.
The Red Blemish walked by again. He looks perplexed. Maybe his scooter is out of gas. A black streak runs down his left cheek.
"Black tears?" I asked.
"A scar," he replied.
"M, The Destroyer of Worlds?" I questioned.
He didn't hear me and disappeared through the office's door.
It's 11:38 P.M. Bracken kicked me out of the office so the Voyager's crew could beam down to the Romulan base without seeming me. It's getting too dangerous to stay here. I think I'll creep through the hall to the Library and hide out for spell while the brave crew of the Voyager battle the foes of liberty and galactic human rights.
"The funniest thing is happening in the Kindergarten room," Bracken said. "Andrew is playing the Romulan Ambassador locked in a cell opposite the Voyager's Ambassador. Andrew is telling the Ambassador Romulan jokes and he isn't getting them. The Voyager's Ambassador is telling Andrew human jokes and Andrew is pretending not to get them either. Its the funniest cross cultural exchange and I'm taking full credit for the idea!"
"Great Idea Bracken," I said.
"Thanks, I needed that," he replied as he disappeared through the Voyager's spinning black door leading to the stage.
Bracken deserves a pat on the back for spearhead this week's Super Overnight Camp.
There are a few things I'd like to share from the Imaginarium to top off the post...
There is a lot to be said for choosing the right time and place to be clueless
OK, a real test of your sweet tooth. Can you name them all just on appearance?
We try to make our simulators Kid Proof and they keep making better kids.
Maintenance is a real pain with the use and abuse our ships endure.
True imagination means pushing the boundary.
Uncharted water can be dangerous, but therein lies the Joy in Journey.
Freedom isn't free.
And what about those inertia dampeners?
How can they cancel inertia when the ship jumps to hyperspeed but
not cancel the effects of a simple torpedo impact?
Neither are Space Center Directors....
I'll continue to use plastic cutlery but
What caught your eye?
What caught your eye?
The same, yet different in both pictures.
You can live in the world and be one of billions and still be yourself.
Stand out for the right reasons.
I admire the Doctor.
Thank the BBC for catering to the more intelligent of the masses.
(Yes, that means if you like Dr. Who, you must be more intelligent than your
average human. I think its a proven fact).
Pay to have Grandma flown home or be creative.
The Truth in Name Brands