Last weekend, I went to Las Vegas for Creation’s annual Star Trek extravaganza. It’s the biggest Star Trek convention of the year, and the only one I’m aware of which attracts just about all the actors from each series, and thousands of devoted Star Trek fans.

As I’ve written before, I’ve been attending cons since I was a kid, and I’ve spent almost as much time standing in line to get autographs as I’ve spent sitting behind the table signing them. It’s given me a lot of perspective on why we go to cons, what makes cons good, what makes cons bad, and inspires me to do my very best to be a good guest when I’m invited.

I don’t go to nearly as many cons as I once did, but this summer I’ve appeared at more than usual, so making the convention experience awesome for fans has been on my mind. Here’s an incomplete list of things that have been on my mind this year:

Rule One: Conventions would not exist without fans.

I don’t know why this simple fact is so difficult for so many promoters and celebrity guests to understand: these people pay your fees and keep you in business. Jonathan Frakes bought his first house with money he earned at conventions. I’m putting my son through college the same way (well, first semester, anyway, we’ll do this one year at a time.) I know countless vendors who drive all over the country to sell their collectibles and crap (yes, there’s crap, and to suggest otherwise is, at best, disingenuous) to fans. We all have to understand that, without the fans who endure great expense and effort to come to the con, there is no con. Period.

Pay attention, promoters: you have no business without the fans who come to your shows. Don’t ever forget that, and respect them. I’ve personally watched promoters figure out that they could do something awesome for fans and earn nothing but goodwill for it, or alienate, exploit, and piss off fans to earn a dollar. Time and again, these people choose to earn the single dollar.

Rule Two: Conventions can not function without volunteers.

When you see a volunteer, thank them. They’re paying to be there just like you are, but they’re also volunteering their time to help make the convention run smoothly. Yes, some of them are power hungry jerks, but most of them are freely giving their time because they love the con and want to give something back to the community. They’re almost certainly being exploited by the convention promoter. They know this, and they do it anyway. The least we can do is thank them.

Rule Three: Respect your fellow fans.

Treat your fellow fans with kindness and respect, especially when you’re in line. Keep a deck of cards, some dice, or this awesome game called Pieces of Eight, and use them to make new friends. I had a lot of fun at Comic-Con this year while I waited in different lines (even the 90 minutes I waited to get into the Futurama panel, only to get cut off by about 40 people) because the people around me were so awesome, especially when we saw the kid dressed up as Link with his MILFtastic mom who was dressed up in a skin-tight spandex Poison Ivy costume and riffed on it:

speaking of waiting in line, here is the most important note I can ever give my fellow fans: Take a fucking shower every day. If you get hot and sweaty in your costume (excuse me, uh, “uniform”) and it’s stinky, guess what? You don’t get to wear it until you’ve had it cleaned. If we can see the stink lines coming off of you when you walk into the con, we shouldn’t have to endure standing next to you for two hours while we wait in an autograph line.

Rule Four: A memo to celebrity guests who sign autographs.

If someone waits in line to meet you and get your autograph, give them a moment of your undivided attention, listen to what they have to say, and honor them. If you’re not willing to seriously interact with the people who are paying outrageous sums of money to see you, do us all a favor and don’t go. When I was at the Creation Con in Vegas last weekend, I heard horror story after horror story about people I consider close friends who simply didn’t treat fans well. I heard from one fan who waited in line for over an hour to meet a particular actor. When he finally got to the head of the line, this particular actor took a call on his/her/its cell phone, carelessly scrawled his/her/its signature with one hand, and didn’t even make eye contact with this fan who: waited in line forever, paid money to get into the con, and paid money for the autograph! As I’ve written before: It’s never about the autograph; it’s about the interaction. If you don’t get that, you shouldn’t be there. If you do get that and you still treat fans like they are nobodies on an assembly line, you’re an ass.

If you doubt how memorable and wonderful the autograph thing can be, witness this experience I had in Vegas while I signed autographs on Thursday:

It wasn't about the autograph, really. That 8x10, covered with eight different signatures in black and silver and gold ink represented a journey for her. I don't know what happened on the journey, but I was there for the end of it, and it was awesome.

Rule Five: Don’t be a dick.

This one is for fans and promoters and celebrities alike. If you’re a promoter and you’re just doing whatever you can to separate the fans from their money, you’re a dick. If you’re a guest and and you’re just there to take whatever money you can from the fans without giving them any of your time or energy, you’re a dick. If you’re a fan, and you’re determined to be unhappy no matter what happens at the show, you’re also a dick. There are always fans at conventions who will not be happy no matter what happens, and we’ve all seen them. I will never understand why someone will spend the time and money to go to a show just to be miserable and complain the entire time they are there, but they are certainly a square on convention bingo.

There was a time when the majority of conventions were essentially huge organized parties where fans could gather together, take over a hotel for a weekend, and celebrate the thing they loved, whether it was Star Trek, gaming, or just science fiction and fantasy in general. Somewhere in the last fifteen years or so, though, that began to change. Screening rooms where you could watch everything from a bootleg third generation VHS copy of Akira without subtitles to a Prisoner marathon were phased out in favor of more vendor space. Fans became segregated into “gold” and “silver” and “general admission” groups, with each getting different treatment and levels of access. Celebrity guests refused to pose for photos, and wouldn’t personalize their autographs. (I was once guilty of this, and I deeply regret it. I blame my youth, and I’ve been working to make up for it ever since). It was around 2001 that I noticed that most cons (certainly the Creation cons) had become giant autograph shows, which was great for collectors, but pretty disappointing for everyone else. I know I’m tilting at windmills here, but I’d like to see less gouging of fans and more celebrating with fans. I’d like to see more fan-run cons like LosCon or Penguicon, or shows lke Dallas Comic-Con, with organizers who put the fans first and only invite celebrity guests who have the same philosophy.

It doesn’t have to be all about squeezing every last dollar out of every last fan. In fact, that’s not why these things were started in the first place. Remember that this is supposed to be fun. We’re all here because we love [Star Trek | Gaming | Battlestar | Buffy | Dressing up like characters from Naruto | Comics] and we want to celebrate it with our fellow fans. If we can meet someone responsible for helping create the object of our affection, it’s that much better. But it’s a fragile ecosystem, and a finite economy. If we all of us – fans, guests, and promoters – play a small part to care for it, we’ll have conventions to attend for years.

Wil Wheaton don't use words like that, St. Louise is listening.