The small aquarium I volunteer at is celebrating its one-year anniversary of being open. This coincides perfectly with the new release of “Star Wars: The Force Awakens.” As such, the managers have decided to invite several people to dress up in character and hang around the aquarium. This draws in huge crowds, and while it’s fun for the guests, it’s making it hard for the employees/volunteers to get anything done.

I’m racing to deliver more birdseed to the aviary when I round the corner and find a full battalion of Clone Troopers in the 501st armor colors. The one dressed as Captain Rex stops me.

Captain Rex: “What is that?”

Me: “Birdseed? I really need to get through.”

Captain Rex: “You may pass.”

I delivered the birdseed but had several more run-ins with the Clones, as well as Darth Vader himself.

I work in a coffee shop in a convention center, and a Star Trek convention is going down. Since I am a fan of the show, my manager has given me permission to work my shift as a Vulcan from the show. I have the hair, the uniform, and most importantly, the ears.

I’ve been serving fans all day and they’re all getting a kick out of it, until one guy comes up in a classic Captain Kirk uniform and seems unimpressed with my getup. I should note that I am Asian.

Customer: “You trying to be a Vulcan?”

Me: “Yes, sir! It was the logical thing to do today!”

Customer: “You can’t be a Vulcan!”

Me: “I think I pull it off pretty well, sir.”

Customer: “But there ain’t no China on Vulcan!”

Ah, I see. Simple racism. I know how to deal with this.

Me: “That’s right, sir. There is no China on Vulcan. There’s no Europe, either.”

The customer opens his mouth to counter my point but then realizes the ridiculousness of arguing over what the default race should be coming from a fictional alien planet. After stuttering a moment:

Customer: “There ain’t no China on Vulcan!”

He stormed off. I wish he left that kind of bigotry in his quarters; there’s no room for it on my bridge.

My surname is Kirk, and my wife took it when we got married. Shortly before she got pregnant with our first child, both her grandfathers — James and Thomas — passed away. We’ve just found out our child is going to be a boy, and she wants to honor them by naming the child after them.

Me: “My dearest, darling wife, you know that I love you more than anything else on this earth. I’m absolutely thrilled that you want to honor your grandfathers by naming our son for them. They were both wonderful men.”

I drop into a crouch so I can speak to our son inside her belly.

Me: “And, son, I love you more than anything else on the planet besides your amazing, wonderful mother. It is because of my very great love for you that I will refuse to let you be named ‘James T. Kirk’ as long as I am alive when you are born.”

Wife: “What are you going on about?”

It suddenly clicks in what I’ve just said.

Wife: “Oh! Yeah, that would be bad. Thanks for catching that, honey.” 

Our two wonderful sons were born three years apart. The older has the middle name of James, and the younger has the middle name of Thomas. I love them and my wife more than life itself.

One of my hobbies is learning to read fictional alphabets, like Aurebesh from “Star Wars” or Elvish and Dwarvish runes from Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings.”

I walk into an unfamiliar coffee shop one day. As the barista takes the money for my order, I see that he has Tolkien’s Elvish tattooed on his forearm.

Me: “Cool tattoo!”

Barista: “Thanks!”

He holds his arm out so I can get a better look at the swirly writing. It takes me a couple of seconds longer to read than regular English, but it turns out to be a famous line from the book, and once I have the first few words, the rest is easy to figure out.

Me: “‘Not… all… those who wander are lost.’ Nice!”

He stares at me in surprise for a moment and then looks over at his coworker.

Barista: *To his coworker* “I like her more than you.”

I’m walking down the street wearing a Miles Morales sweater, and a kid and his mom pass me.

Kid: “Cool sweater!”

Me: “Thanks!”

I keep walking. That’s when the mom gets involved.

Woman: “GET BACK HERE NOW!”

I think that maybe I accidentally tripped her son or something, but I turn around and both of them are standing there, completely fine, her son oblivious.

Me: “Is something wrong?”

Woman: “HOW DARE YOU WEAR THAT SWEATER, YOU RACIST!”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “You’re wearing that sweater so you can pretend that you’re not racist and get the support of the BLM community!”

Me: *Still confused* “Um, I just like Miles Mora—”

Woman: “No! You’re just a white person trying to look supportive of BLM!”

Me: *Sighs* “If you’re just gonna waste my time, I’m gonna just keep walking.”

Woman: “NO! YOU WILL NOT WALK AWAY FROM THIS!”

I start walking away as she keeps screaming at me, and I think of the best truth bomb to drop on this woman.

Me: “Oh, and by the way, Miles Morales is half Puerto Rican, and so am I.”

The lady looked surprised, paused, and then kept going. I blocked her out and kept walking.