Poll If we were to get a new series called Star Trek: Destiny, how would you abbreviate Discovery?

I find it to be a pretty dumb abbreviation and a deviation from the other shows. Don't take it as a judgement on you, I'm not sure why you would.

 

Let me tell you about Woodstock from the POV of a nine year old at the time...
(it's a long winded tale, with several points-of-interest along the way)

My 18 year old sister was in charge of babysitting me that weekend.
(my mom had to work overtime and my older brothers were away)

So she and her long haired freaky boyfriend, dragged me off to that concert in his psychedelic-painted, VW-Van.
(it's about an hour and fifteen minutes from Schenectady)
I remember there being a rather large depiction of an anatomically correct naked lady on the interior of the roof.
(my first of many exposures to what a woman had between her legs that weekend!)

We got there late Friday afternoon and had to walk about 2 miles from where he parked on the side of the highway.
(at the time, it seemed like 100 miles to my 9 year old legs and I let them know it constantly)

Then we had to sneak through a rather large hole in a chain link fence to get in.
(it was big by the time we got to it because 100's of other mostly teenagers had already snuck in for free)

Friday evening was OK (after I settled down and she fed me a hotdog) and I kinda-sorta liked some of the music, but by what seemed like midnight to me, I was more than ready to go home.
Needless to say my sister then informed me that we were staying for the whole weekend.
(at that point I had my second temper tantrum of the weekend with more to follow)

We eventually went back to his VW to sleep.
(It was hot and humid and two other strangers joined us, which made for an even more miserable 9 year old)

The next morning just before sunrise, we got up and walked the '100' miles back to the venue.
(I think it was at that very moment in my life when I decided in my head that when I got old enough, I would never get up that early again on a daily basis ... and I've worked the second shift my entire adult life so as not to have to get up at that ungodly hour!)

Anyway, it was at this point that my supposedly 'babysitting' sister disappeared on me.
(this led to my fifth or sixth tantrum, I actually lost count by then)

But Saturday ended up being ok cause a lovely lady who knew the 'Boyfriend', took pity on this miserable child and took me under her wing for the remainder of the weekend, feeding me an egg sandwich and a banana as well as showing me the best place to pee behind a large bush.
(no pun intended. and for the record, there was no way in Hell I was going to do #2 till I got home!)

Her red haired daughter, Christy (more about her later), was three years older and apparently took a shine to me, as we became inseparable for the next 48 hours.
(This and my Irish ancestry, are most likely the main reasons I have always prefered gingers)

Sometime that morning it started to rain (and I mean pour!) and didn't really stop completely till late Sunday night.
(ok, now I'm a soaking wet, covered in mud, miserable nine year old, with no towel or change of clothes, Tantrum #X Incoming!)

Now imagine, several thousand young people singing, smokin' weed and spending the next day and a half in a very large cow pasture in the pouring rain having a good time.
Needless to say, clothing for these happy, hippy-dippy folks, had become very optional at this point.
(and for a just over 3.5 foot tall; very nieve; nine year old virgin ... it was an eyeful. The Lady on the VW Ceiling, immediately became a distant memory)

Thank goodness for Christy and her mom. (whose name I can't remember for the life of me)
They took me in as almost a member of their family, otherwise I probably would have ended up as a picture on a milk carton.
Apparently, there were a lot of creepy looking guys wandering around that would have just loved finding a "boytoy" all by himself, to take home.
At least that's what the Mom kept telling me, I didn't even know what a 'boytoy' was till Christy finally explained it.

As for Christy...
Apparently, she was quite knowledgeable about all things carnal in nature (for a 12 year old) and took some delight in educating her "Young Man Davey" ... her pet name for me ... (my first, but certainly not my last) as we wandered around together for the rest of the weekend.
I never knew if her mom knew what 'other things' Christy ended up 'teaching' me that weekend, cause I was too naively embarrassed and distraught to even mention to anybody.
(and YES, it's what you think it is)

So by Monday morning when my sister finally came around to collect me, I had gone from a happy-go-lucky
child, to a sexually active "Man"(?) with experiences under my belt that would haunt me till I was 16.
At which point I had begun a relationship with a 20 year old guy who I had finally worked up the courage to actually tell about my "WOODSTOCK" experience.
(he laughed his ass off at first and then explained to me what being Bi was)

Oh BTW ...
I went to the STUDIO 54 in NYC once ... It was very loud and chaotic and actually lead to another very interesting weeked for me, but that's a story for another time.

 

I can't tell from this story if you consider it to be overall a bad or a good experience.

You and I are about the same age and I had plenty of experience doing #2 outside when I was 9 (I had gone camping plenty of times already), it was no longer bothering me. I was very curious (and still am) about the female anatomy. I've been propositioned a few times by people who wanted to teach me what it meant to be bi. But I refused each time, forcefully even because in my culture it was a bad thing to even be considered gay. Had they tried to be even more insisting I have kicked the hell out of them but fortunately, that never happened. I need to go now so I'll tell you some more later. Bye for now.

 

Well, remember that I am telling this tale now some 50 years later, with plenty of time to have sorted it out in my head.
Looking back at that period of time in my life when I became a very confused and miserable kid, because I really had no understanding of the events that played out that weekend and was too scared to talk about it with anybody.
It took many years before I began to internally accept that what had happened that weekend, wasn't really 'Bad' thing.
It certainly affected my perceptions toward girls and SEX for a long time afterward.
I think it also contributed toward focusing my latent sexual interest in guys much earlier than would have otherwise happened.

It's kinda funny that part of what kept me from becoming a complete sexual maniac at the age of 10, was my developing interest in Star Trek and the messages of Hope it conveyed to a very impressionable and bewildered kid.

(though, the complete and unmitigated fantasy crush I built up in my head about sexual encounters with Kirk & Spock and Rand probably weren't all that helpful)

Also, the bathroom thing was more because there was absolutely no place Private to do one's business.
The few port-a-potties that were around, had been completely and utterly overwhelmed by the thousands of unexpected attendees and at 9, I was not yet ready to share my bathroom habits with that many strangers.

 

yes I confirm what you said especially the last sentence because I too had the same case
thank you very much you have said everything and that all I'm going to say