Close Encounters of the Celebrity Kind

Maybe I Did, Maybe I Didn't

Hello, to all my wonderful readers! With this week’s post, let’s try a little something different, shall we? I will present three scenarios for your perusal. Each will tell the tale of a celebrity encounter I have experienced. The challenge to you, wonderful readers, is to determine which of these scenarios are true, and which are made up. Maybe all of them are true, maybe all of them are false. Maybe the truth is somewhere in between.

Subscribers who post the correct true or false answers for each scenario in the Comments will win the satisfaction of being right. So, if you haven’t subscribed already, consider doing it now! It’s free, you know.

People to whom I am currently married are not eligible. Void were prohibited. All rights reserved.

Okay, let’s do it!

Larry David

This happened many years ago. Between my long term gigs at the bank and the library, I had a job that occasionally required me to travel. One time, I was assigned to fly to New York to meet our equipment truck and drive it to Nashville. There were no direct flights to New York from my location and the person making the travel arrangements discovered it would actually be cheaper for me to fly to Los Angeles and catch the direct LA to New York flight from there. Seemed ridiculous to fly hundreds of miles in the opposite direction to get where I needed to go, but that’s what happens when you deregulate the airlines.

Anyway, I get to LAX and find out I had been upgraded to first class for the flight to New York. Hot dang, I had never flown first class before. So, I board the plane and find my seat and soon a bald guy with glasses sits down next to me. He says, “Hi, I’m Larry.” I really do not want to talk to this stranger, but what are you going to do? I introduced myself and he goes, “So, going to the Big Apple, huh? Business or pleasure? To myself I’m thinking, “For Pete’s sake, he’s one of those chatty jerks who is never going to shut up all the way to New York. Damn.” I gave a brief description of my business in New York, and he says, “Interesting. I’m going to New York to meet a friend and we are going to finalize a pitch we are preparing for the TV networks. It’ll be a sitcom, kind of a fictionalized version of my friend’s life.”

Sounded like bullshit to me, but I decided to play along. So I say, “Who’s your friend?” Larry says, “He is a stand-up comedian named Jerry Seinfeld.” And, I say, “Jerry Steinfeld? Never heard of him.” “No, no, Seinfeld, Jerry Seinfeld. We’re going to call the show, ‘Hey it’s Jerry!’ and it will seem to be a show about Jerry and his wacky New York friends, when really it will be a show about nothing. The show will be funny because the characters will learn no lessons and will not experience any personal growth.” And, he proceeded to tell me a bunch of script ideas he had for the show.

I asked him why he thought people would watch something like that. “They’ll watch because it’ll be on TV”, he said. To that inescapable logic I replied, “Well, good luck with that, Larry, but you may want to curb your enthusiasm just a bit. I imagine it’s really tough to get a TV show on the air”, while thinking to myself, “That shit is never going to fly.” Then I put on my big headphones and my sleepmask. Thankfully, Larry took the hint and he did not bother me the rest of the flight. And, that’s how I met Larry David.

My one time seat-mate ended up doing all right for himself.

Moe Howard

The summer after I graduated from high school, I decided to take a Greyhound bus out to Hollywood. I had been saving up for quite a while and I wanted to see something different than Western Pennsylvania, where I had spent my entire life.

Specifically, I wanted to attend a taping of the Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson. I thought Johnny was cool and hip and I wanted to see the show up close and in person.

So, I get out there, and, goddamn, everything was so spread out. The metro Los Angeles area was actually hundreds of towns and cities, and thousands of square miles of sprawl, miles and miles of strip malls, freeways, and fast food joints. I did a lot of hitchhiking.

While standing in line at the Tonight Show, someone shoved a brochure in my hand. It said, “SEE THE HOMES OF THE STARS! That sounded like a cool thing to do, so the next day I hitched my way to the starting point of the tour in hopes of seeing “HOLLYWOOD’S BIGGEST STARS”. (By the way, The Tonight Show was a bummer. Johnny wasn’t even there that night. Some actor I never even heard of was the guest host.)

The Homes of the Stars thing turned out to be kind of a letdown, too. They put us on an open-air bus and all we really saw were the front gates to each property. Occasionally, a car would pass through the gate and we would get the briefest glimpse of the mansion at the end of a long driveway.

Honestly, the list of “Hollywood’s Biggest Stars” was rather, uh, dated. Most of them maybe were big stars in the 40s or 50s. The only celebrity on the list I was really interested in was Moe Howard of The Three Stooges. I was a big fan of the Stooges and I was hoping against hope to see Moe in person.

We pulled up to the gate of the great Stooge’s mansion. It was a typical ivy-covered, wrought iron gate, big enough for two cars to enter or exit side by side. There was a smaller door off to the right side of the main gate, which I assumed was for entering or exiting the property on foot.

The tour guide began her spiel about Moe and the history of his home and several of us hopped off the bus to take pictures. Just down the street, I thought I saw an opening in the large, dense shrubbery growing in front of the tall iron fencing which surrounded the property. I thought maybe I could see the actual house through this opening. I got on my hands and knees and crawled through the shrubs to get to the fence. This was a mistake because a belt loop in my pants got hooked by a branch and I got stuck amidst the viney vegetation. By the time I extricated myself, the tour bus was gone. Shit.

I stood there for a moment, assessing my options, when the door next to the big gate opened, and who stepped through but the great Stooge himself, Moe Howard! His hair was snow white and he had it kind of combed to one side, instead of in his familiar bowl-cut bangs, and had on a pair of those oversized, old man glasses, but there was no mistaking that it was Moe of the Three Stooges! Standing right there in front of me! In his monogrammed bathrobe!

I said, “Hello, Mister Howard!” He said, “Hiya, kid. What the hell happened to you?” I looked down and saw that I was a bit of a mess from getting tangled up in the bushes. “I was jogging along here and I tripped and fell into the bushes”, I lied.

He arched his eyebrow and said, “Oh, yeah?”, and I said “Yeah.” He said, ‘You aren’t going to sue me, are ya kid?” I responded, “Oh, no, Mister Howard. I would never do that. I’m a big fan.” Moe says, “Thanks, kid. I just came out to get my newspaper. Well, you have a good day.” I go, “Hey, Mister Howard, would it be okay if I took your picture?” Moe said, “Hell no, kid! I’m in my bathrobe for chrissakes! G’wan, get outta here! Scram!

Instantly, I was all a-tingle because Moe of the Three Stooges told me to “Scram!” as if we were performing a scene in a Stooge film.

He then turned to go back to his house, but his robe got caught on the fencing. He twisted around and gave it a big yank, and ripped a humongous hole in the backside of his robe! I stood there, dumbfounded, my mouth agape. I was looking right at Moe Howard’s wrinkled old ass! I mean, like the full moon! Oh my gosh!

With all the dignity he could muster, the great Moe Howard, of one of the greatest comedy teams ever, The Three Stooges, said to me, “Whatsamatter, kid? You never seen an old Jew’s ass before? Now, scram, before I call the cops.” I scrammed as he slammed the door behind him. And, all these years later, that is still one of the greatest moments of my entire life - seeing Moe Howard’s wrinkled old Jewish ass.

This picture of Moe Howard, the leader of The Three Stooges, was probably taken around the time of our encounter.

The Mystery Woman

My family in Pennsylvania lives more or less equidistant from Cleveland and Pittsburgh. When I go for a visit, I check to see which flights have the best fares. So sometimes I land in Cleveland, sometimes Pittsburgh. This time I was going to Cleveland.

I had to change planes in Dallas, which is not the most pleasant of experiences. I do not want to say which airline I was flying, let’s just say it was one of the biggest of the American Airlines. Seems like I have spent an awful lot of dead time sitting around in DFW because my connecting flights are often delayed. This was no exception.

While I was killing time, the airline announced that my flight would be delayed several more hours due to a mechanical issue. My anticipated two hour layover had turned into five.

After hearing the bad news, I said out loud, to no one in particular, “All right, where is the nearest bar?” An attractive young woman sitting behind me said, “There’s one down that way,” pointing a well-manicured finger to her right. I said, “Great, care to join me?” She said, “Why not?” and off we went.

The bar had plenty of tables, so we chose one and I went to get the drinks - white wine for her, Seven and Seven for me. We started talking about how, of all the spectacular destinations in the world, we were going to Cleveland, Ohio. Turns out she was stopping off in Cleveland to visit a favorite aunt, then she was flying to the UK because she had earned a Rhodes Scholarship. Wow, smart and attractive. As we talked, I realized I might never again have an opportunity such as this, so, for once in my life, I decided to be bold.

I said to the Mystery Woman, “How about if we meet up for dinner one night in Cleveland before you go to the UK? Could I have your phone number?” Which led to the following exchange:

Mystery Woman: “Thanks, but no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Norm: “Well, why not? We have been having a nice time here, haven’t we?”

MW: “Yes, but that doesn’t mean we should go on a date.”

N: “Give me one good reason. Just be honest.”

MW: “All right, you want honesty? Not that it is any of your business, but I’m gay, all right? That’s why I do not want to go on a date with you.”

N: “Gay? C’mon, that’s bullshit. You’re not gay.”

MW: “How would you know?”

N: “Well, you don’t look gay.”

I knew that my stupid brain and my stupid mouth were combining to make a really stupid mistake as those words were passing by my lips. But it was too late to stop.

The Mystery Woman’s face clouded over, as she heard the stupid words come from my stupid mouth. Then she quickly reached over, grabbed my drink, and threw it in my face. I knew she was saying something to me in a very forceful manner, but, in my state of shock and shame, I couldn’t make out what she was saying. Well, actually, I understood one word she said multiple times - “asshole”.

So, the Mystery Woman stomped off, and I went to the restroom to clean myself up. All my clean shirts were in my checked bag, so I took my shirt off and tried to rinse it out the best I could. Then I held it under the hand dryer for a while before I put it back on. I still smelled like a distillery, but what else could I do?

I arrived back at my gate and saw that people were lining up to board our flight. Apparently they found a plane for us that was deemed capable of getting us to Cleveland.

I saw the Mystery Woman up near the front of the line and our eyes met. She smiled that cute little smile of hers and waved me over. She said, “Look, I’m really sorry. That was an overreaction on my part. Let me make it up to you. Instead of going way back to the end of the line, just step in here in front of me. What do you say?” I said to her, “Well, okay, thanks. And I’m very sorry for what I said to you in the bar.” She said, “Let’s just forget the whole thing.”

As I stepped in line in front of her, I thought, okay, this didn’t turn out so bad after all. Then the Mystery Woman started yelling in a very loud voice, “Help! Security! Help me, please help me! This drunk man shoved in line in front of me! Help! Security!”

Two large airport security agents grabbed me out of the line and as they were dragging me away, I saw the Mystery Woman laughing and waving at me, so I gave her the finger. Never even got her name. Needless to say, I missed my flight to Cleveland and I never tried to pick up a strange woman in a bar again.

It wasn’t until many years later that I discovered the name of the Mystery Woman. I was watching Keith Olbermann’s MSNBC show one night, when I saw her talking with Keith about the upcoming election. At the sight of her, I sat bolt-upright in my Laz-E-Boy and spilled my Seven and Seven all over myself. The Mystery Woman was . . .

?????

. . . Rachel Maddow.

The Mystery Woman

Okay, fans, there you go. Was I telling my truth in any of these stories, or were they the stuff you scrape off your shoes after walking in a pasture? Hit me up in the Comments! Good luck!

To my wonderful subscribers, please help me grow my publication by sharing my posts with family and friends, or on your social media accounts. Thank you for your support.