Dancing Barefoot by Wil Wheaton Read Free Book Online Page A

Teen Idol.” She turns to Michael. “Doesn’t he look great?”
    â€œIf you say so,” Michael teases me.
    I love these two. I’m terrified about going on stage, but a smile that starts in my feet
     spreads across my face.
    â€œThe fans loved you guys,” I say. “I have a lot to live up to.”
    â€œYou’re going to be great, Wil.” It’s Dave Scott. “Are you ready?”
    I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
    Michael and Marina wish me luck, and leave. I wonder if any of us have ever stayed around
     to watch each other on stage. I’ve watched Patrick a few times, hoping that he’ll break into
     some spontaneous Shakespeare, but nobody’s ever watched me, as far as I know.
    Dave pats my shoulder, and takes the stage.
    â€œOh, ladies and gentlemen! Our next speaker is going to really surprise you!” The crowd
     begins to applaud.
    That was nice. Surprising people is cool.
    â€œHe did a show for me in Waterbury, Connecticut, and he was the funniest, most
     entertaining, and charming guest I’ve ever had!” The applause is joined by some
     whistling.
    Woah, Dave! Let’s not build me up too much.
    â€œYou are going to have the time of your life in the next 50 minutes!”
    I can hear some screams of “WESLEY!” join the cacophony.
    Oh Christ. “The time of your life?!” Stop now, please.
    â€œPlease welcome to the stage, all the way from Los Angeles, the man, the myth, the legend,
     Wesley Crusher himself, WIL WHEATON!”
    The crowd explodes. They cheer. They stomp their feet. They whistle. The stage is littered
     with panties.
    Well, maybe not the panties part, but everything else is true. I swear. I take a deep
     breath, and walk through the curtain.

    I burst out onto the stage, and they jump to their feet. In this moment, I understand the
     appeal of living a rock and roll lifestyle.
    I walk around the stage, waving, throwing the goat, and enjoying the positive
     response.
    When the crowd settles down, I hit them with my funny.
    It’s hot in Vegas. Tenth Circle of Hell hot. Fortunately, TNN has shown up and, in a
     humanitarian and self-promotional effort, have handed out bottles of “Altair Water.” It’s
     plain old bottled water, but it’s in a nifty green bottle with some Star Trek graphics on it,
     and a friendly reminder to “ Watch TNG on The New TNN! ” They are handing
     them out by the hundreds, because those spacesuits really make you sweat, if I remember
     correctly.
    So I hold up the bottle of water and I say, “I’ve been drinking this ‘Altair Water’ all
     morning . . . and you know what I’m thinking? This isn’t actually from the planet Altair. It’s
     just regular water! So if you paid for it, I think you got ripped off.”
    Oh yeah, baby. It’s comedy gold.
    The applause and cheering of moments before is replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights,
     as the first surly heckler shouts, (with the appropriate mix of condescension and contempt),
     “It’s free, Wil!”
    Self-preservation speaks up. “ Get off the stage, Wil. You had your chance and
     you blew it .”
    He’s right. I’ve been on stage for 15 seconds, and they already hate me.
    I try to shake it off, and move right into the Q&A. “Okay . . . uh, I only have 50
     minutes here and I want to maximize our time together today, so here’s the deal: I have some
     stories that I like to tell, but I also like to take questions from the audience, so you can
     direct the discussion. Since we only have a short time today, I’ll answer the most frequently
     asked questions first: No, yes, umbrellas, I can’t remember and they were real.”
    Bingo, baby! “they were real!” How can they not love that?!
    Silence. I see a teenager in a “Sexy women of Star Trek” T-shirt roll his eyes, as four
     Klingons sigh