Years ago my brother sat next to Ringo Starr on a Concordflight. Apparently a nice bloke with a good sense of humor—when my 6’7” brother asked if he could have Ringo’s uneaten dinner roll he replied, “anybody your size can have anything of mine they want.” He also sat in front of and spoke physics with Stephen Hawking (when he still had a voice). Too bad it was on a different Concord flight from Ringo’s, that would have been surreal.
Is that what diplomats do? That sounds like the job for me!
I had won some contest at work, 1999, and won a weekend Tony Robbins retreat (:rolleyes: waste of my time) in Orlando where they put us up in the Peabody hotel.
I was arrving in my Accord and wanted to park in the hotel lot but had to drive thru the drop-off main entrance. Limos were dropping people off to the left of me and the main entrance was to the right. Some guy in a suit with a lady in hand jumped into the red carpet crosswalk as I was about to drive over it. He abruptly stopped and I hit the brakes. He made eye contact with me through the windshield waiting for me to give him the “go ahead” sign. I hesitated for a second cause when he made eye contact my mind went “Holy crap, that’s Donald Trump”. I must have hesitated too long cause when I finally waved him by I gave him a big smile and he returned the favor by giving me a big angry frown and glare.
As I drove to the parking lot I thought “That ass” and it occured to me that I could have floored it while he walked in front of me.
So, you’re saying Beyoncé looks 10 years older than she is in person? 
Sept 12, 2008 -Jessica Simpson was stopping by to promote her new country album and an internal memo went around the station that sternly instructed us: “please do not man-handle the celebrity.” (I offered to defend her with my staple gun and ruler, but got no response.)
Having celebrities at the station is cool, but not uncommon, so although I made sure to put my name on the list for an autographed picture, I didn’t think too much of it. It was a busy day for me and I was on a pretty short deadline, so I just avoided the recording studio where all the hubbub was and ran around dealing with stuff.
I actually thought she had left by the time I decided to take the shortcut between 2 of the stations. Instead, I found myself face to face with our Country promotions director (and sender of the man-handling memo). They were sneaking Jessica out the back door. I quickly backed up as far as i could against the cement wall so she would know I wasn’t going to manhandle her. I was surprised how little she was. She was carrying her little dog in her arms and made the dog wave as she said, “bye!” directly to me.
It wasn’t an embarassing moment, per se, except for me splaying myself against the wall like i was going to get shot or she was 4 feet wide . . .
I’m thinking of other ones now. (I lived in San Francisco for a time so I got to see a lot of famous ppl pass through.)
Once an obviously hammered Robert Downey Jr. staggered into me in the seedy part of town (he was actually carrying a jug o’ wine, and flanked by a couple ladies whom I’d suggest were less-than-reputable) though I suspect that was more embarassing for him than it was for me, if he even remembers.
As for things embarassing for me: When my parents were visiting we went to a local dive, Lori’s Diner. A guy at the counter looked vaguely like Keith Carridine and I started saying “check it out, it’s Keith Carridine.” (My brother and I liked to play a game called “famous person” where we’d say mundane people were famous based on inane things…like, anyone wearing a sweater vest was ROGER EBERT! etc.) We laughed and my dad said something like “I’m so sure Keith Carridine would eat here.” and since there was a promotion at the time when my brother and I worked in the movie field (ok, ushers) for the Will Rogers foundation we started singing “Never met a maaaaaaaaaaaan, Iiiiiiiii didn’t liiiike…” And laughing hysterically.
The guy finished and paid his bill and gave us the stink-eye on his way out, but stopped to talk to a couple people at a nearby table, who happened to have “Will Rogers Follies” crew jackets on - the show Keith Carridine was starring at right down the street, lol. Whups!
Then one time my boss (the shittiest boss I’ve ever had for the record) sent me up the street to go fetch something from where his daughter worked. I was in a pissed-off mood and then when I was crossing the street these two guys just STOPPED and started talking and pointing around like dumbass tourists! I almost blurted “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!” before I realised it was Michael Douglas and the director of “The Game” trying to lay out a shot. (Michael Douglas looks a lot better in person, btw.)
I don’t normally claim transcendency in these things, (unless it’s an unfunny comedian thing, and then I usually steal the show by bringing up Colin Quinn) but I was a total retard when I met Dabney Coleman. This was towards the late 90s, so he was well past his prime, but I had always liked him because he had a great talent for acting the ultimate bureaucrat. He was working on the Red Fern Grows movie.
At any rate, I had seen a movie on TV called Brotherhood of the Bell, around 1972. I saw it again in the late 80s and said, “Hey, wait a minute, that’s Dabney Coleman, younger and without a moustache.” I didn’t see the closing credits, so I wasn’t 100 percent sure, though I was 90 percent sure.
So, in the late 90s, I was doorman/host at an exclusive restaurant. I saw him coming in, lined him up, got him seated, called some of my dork friends who would be impressed (Not a lot…not a lot of friends, not a lot who would care about D. Coleman) and they yawned. After dining (alone) he came out and I called the elevator for him. I stuck out my hand, and started to tell him how great I thought he was, but he seemed disinterested, and I started mumbling, being confused by his lack of being impressed by the good taste of a security guard in a suit. Not deterred, I asked for confirmation on the Brotherhood of the Bell movie. He said “No.” I knew otherwise, but didn’t press it. Slunk away. He then mumbled something like “Yes…but that was a long time ago.” I, not realizing that I had been reprieved, started to mumble something again about how great I thought he was, and as I was speaking, he saw a local actress, turned away from me, mid-sputter, and said "Hi, X, how have you been?"Went into a conversation with her.
Felt like a total jerk. Looked like a total jerk. Was a total jerk.
Jerk.
Jerk.
Jerk.
hh
Yeah, but you’re still handsome.
::modest blush::
hj
This thread is making me feel either very young or out-of-touch, because I only recognize a handful of these names.
My favorite story is Alan Greenspan in the lavatory at Ayn Rand’s house. 
I met Bill Clinton in 1992 just after he’d won the Democratic nomination. I asked, “Who do you think you’ll pick for Vice President?” He said, “I don’t know. Who do you suggest?” And I drew a total blank. :smack:
Dammit, Elendil, you could’ve had a shot at fame yourself! You could have been the VPOTUS! And with it all the non-fame and non-fortune that the office affords! That could have been you claiming to have invented the Internet and warning about global warming and winning Nobel Prizes!
But nooooo, you had to let him pick Gore!
Let this be your lesson.
I used to work in a mom and pop video store in Jupiter, Fl as a teenager. I used to hate having to call people to remind them that their videos were late, and that they would have to pay a fine, blah blah blah…especially when such people were Joe Namath and Burt Reynolds.
Burt came in the next day after a call, apolgized for being late. Then picked a few more movies and bought them outright.
You’d be just the person to answer this then: I’ve always wondered, do movie stars rent their own movies?
(ETA: And by that I mean “movies in which they appear”)
I am deservedly chastened. 
Let’s see…probably 5 or so years ago my best friend invited me to go to Talladega with her. Her husband was a medic and worked in the pits. I am not a racing fan and know nothing about NASCAR but she didn’t want to be alone and said it was a good time so I went. We had passes to go everywhere but the actual track while it was “hot” or whatever.
Her husband was off doing his thing after the first race wrapped up and one of the behind the scenes people stopped us as we were walking back to our camper asked us if we wanted to hop on his golf cart and go into the owner’s compound and get a tour. We said sure and off we went.
We are cruising around and he is pointing out the different trailers/campers to us and who they belong to and then we start to pass this other golf cart with 2 young, cute guys in it along with a driver.
Our driver pulls over to talk to their driver and the 2 guys hop out, walk up to us and start asking us our names and if we are having a good time.
I’m chatty and told them we were having a really good time then I ask, “So, who is your favorite in the race? Do you want a certain driver to win?”
They both smile really big and look at each other then glance back at me and chuckle. One says to me, “Are you serious?”
I nod and they realize I truly am asking if they have a favored driver.
The one I asked the question to looks at me, leans in and says, “Well…I’m kinda partial to myself…”
It was Kasey Kahne. The other guy was Casey Mears.
They were just amazed I honest to goodness had no idea who they were. They invited us back later that night for a cookout so we went and hung out with some of the drivers and they were all super nice and I did have a great time.
Still don’t know a thing about NASCAR or watch races though.
Or you could have said, “I have two friends here…Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson!” And he would have laughed and laughed…
hh
My Mom grew up with Bill Murray, and my Dad’s roommate was Rick Flair, but that’s not me.
I’ve “met” a decent amount of musical celebrities. Primus was a band I really liked in High school. I almost ran over Les Claypool, in the literal sense once. There were two main exits from the venue, and I was at the other. I ran towards the crowd, and almost leveled the guy.
I met Queensryche at the same venue, due to pres passes for contest winners. Geoff Tate was a dick, the drummer was cool but didn’t remember a thing. All of the other guys were new, and very keen to meet fans. On my way in to the venue after the meet and greet, there was a group of three guys. They had no tickets, and the show was sold out. I offered them my signed poster, and they were inordinately grateful.
I’ve approved a line of credit for Aaron Spelling, sold a drum to the drummer for Parliament (at the time), given parts to the drummer of GWAR, and was personally given the finger by Larry LaLonde at Lolapalooza '93.
There’s more, but I need to sleep now.