My ex and I walked by Kelsey Grammar as we were going into a grocery store and he was coming out of it in Agoura Hills, CA. (where, I undestand, he lives - AH, not the grocery store). To his credit, my ex didn’t say anything; me being from CA, am not the type to fawn anyhow.
My husband walked into an unlocked men’s stall in a bathroom at a gas station on Mission Street in Santa Barbara and found Lou Ferrigno taking a dump! Said he was big, nice and didn’t kick his ass.
My father ran into Richard Nixon at the St. Louis airport in 1965. Upon being recognized, Nixon flashed a big smile, stuck out his hand and said “I’m Dick Nixon. Glad to meet you!”
(Important historical note for young Dopers: after Nixon lost the 1960 presidential election he ran for Governor of California in 1962. He lost and “retired” from politics with the memorable line “You won’t have Nixon to kick around anymore.”)
My father’s reaction after meeting him? “Shit, the son of a bitch is going to run again!”
Shared an elevator with Shaquill O’Neill <sp?> in Vancouver once. Damn but he is a big man. He was at eye-level with the numbers above the elevator door.
Last Xmas we were in NYC and had the following encounters in our hotel-
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The entire Golden State Warriors basketball team was staying there, so I rode elevators with several very tall, probably famous black men (I don’t follow the NBA, so I didn’t know any of them- I did wish them good luck against the Nets, though).
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A member of the housekeeping staff was determined to deliver Phil Jackson’s dry cleaning to my husband (the Lakers arrived at our hotel the day after the Warriors left). Although our last names are similar, believe me when I tell you that my 5’11" husband could have worn that man’s dress shirt as a dress! It took several patient minutes to assure her that Mr. Jackson was probably one floor above us.
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Met the Bryant clan in the elevator (Kobe, Vanessa, her mom and their two daughters). Kobe is a very nice, friendly guy, once he relaxes a bit. He was waiting for the elevator holding his daughters, and sort of hiding his face behind them. I don’t blame him- people were all over him. He almost didn’t get in our elevator, but I think what convinced him is that we didn’t have that “Oh, look! It’s Kobe Bryant!” look on our faces. We chatted about our kids (our boys are the same age as his girls), exchanged root beer float recipes, and wished each other a merry Xmas.
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I was standing at the concierge desk next to an older guy who was sending a fax. I glanced over and it was Eddie Money. I asked the concierge about dress codes at a couple of places, and Eddie and I commiserated about the lack of a dress code at restaurants that used to be quite fancy. It was pretty funny- an aging rocker complaining about people wearing blue jeans for dinner at Tavern on the Green!
I freaking love staying on the park! 
Ok. That last bit about Eddie Money is hilarious to me. Check this out…
Many moons ago, probably let’s say about 17 years or so, Eddie Money was playing at a local fairgrounds called the Orange Show for a buck. Yes, a BUCK. That’s it. That’s all you had to pay to get into this fabulous concert. I was raised on that kind of music, so I was all about it. I was around 18 at the time, so the cost fit right into my budget.
My friend and I waited in line outside the pavillion for things to start and struck up a conversation with a couple of women in line ahead of us. You know the type. 40 something, hair up to here, dressed as though they’d had no idea that they had aged beyond 21, swilling beer, scoping out guys even though they’re both married with teenagers…
Anyhow, we got into the hall, pretty close to right in front of the stage, and these two “ladies” decide to stick with us for some reason. Had a great concert experience that involved Mr. Money hearing me sing from where I was and telling me that was neat and letting me sing the Ronnie Specter part of, “Be My Baby Tonight”. Just keen as shit as far as I was concerned.
Upon leaving the hall after the concert, the blond bimbo turns to me and launches into a tirade about how (and I’ll use her words here even though mine would be more entertaining) “fucking disrespectful it was for him to be wearing jeans and a flannel when he was on stage. Didn’t he know we paid to come see him? Couldn’t someone have told him to dress better than to make us think he was homeless?”
Me: “You just paid a dollar for a concert. At the Orange Show.”
Her: “So? Did you SEE what he was wearing?”
Me: “Yes. Jeans, a Tshirt, and a flannel. Welcome to San Bernardino. Where do you think you are, the Velvet Turtle?”
Her: “Well. I won’t listen to him anymore if he thinks he can get away with that.”
Me: sputter
In conclusion, someone I know from this board having a chat with the man himself over dress code is the kind of kismet that perks up my world.
Back during the time of their “snakepit tour”, Metallica was staying in the hotel next door to where my buddy’s dad worked (we were waiting for a lift home).
We just idly glanced at a white limo parked outside the hotel, when we noticed a crowd gathered at the doors. “Metallica’s probably heading for the airport!”
We (myself, my buddy, and two others who were hanging out with us at the time) started running for the door, geting there just in time to get the autographs of James, Kirk, and Lars. Jason had just recently shaved his head, so I didn’t recognize him until after he was past me, and I didn’t feel he was the type you’d want to tap on the shoulder from behind…
The day (either before or after) a Tragically Hip concert, I was hanging out at a local bar, when the guys from the band walk in and sit down. A friend of mine (who was in the band hosting that evening’s jam there) and I sat and chatted with them for a few minutes. Apparently, none of the other clubs would let them in, because they were wearing steel-toe boots.
The evening before the big Parlee Beach concert featuring Def Leppard and Meatloaf, among others, there was a “tailgate party” at a local bar. My buddies and I went, hoping to meet some band members.
I got autographs from (IIRC): two or three members of Sven Gali, four of the five members of Ugly Kid Joe (lead singer’s a jerk – no, really?), and – this one was my favorite – Rick Allen, the drummer of Def Leppard. He seemed very down to earth and nice guy.
Some of the guys from these bands got up on stage to jam out on Sweet Home Alabama, UKJ’s singer on vocals.
At one point in the evening, a couple of my buddies decided to head over to the hotel, where they saw an inebriated Joe Elliott (singer of Def Lep) playing the piano and singing in the lobby.
S^G
When I talked to a celebrity:
When I was in high school (about 17 years ago) a friend and I were downtown (Omaha) and we ran into Steven Tyler of Aerosmith (they were in town for a concert) in the doorway of a music store. We got an autograph, however it was on my friends arm in sharpie. We took pictures of her arm when we got home… I have no idea where those picts went.
Where I did not talk to them:
Sat two tables away from Robin Leech at AJ’s Steakhouse at the Hard Rock Hotel here in Las Vegas.
Also at the Hard Rock Hotel, Penn Jillette was standing right behind me at a Dick Dale show (it was out in the pool area).
At Fado’s Irish Pub here, I was sitting about four feet from Lars Ulrich (Metallica)… he was having drinks with a group of people, while a local band was playing.
On a lesser note, Tommy Frazier (QB for the Nebraska Huskers) was in one of my classes when I was going to school at UNL.
I was at Doheny Beach this morning and saw Adrian Grenier from Entourage, helping out a bunch of kids with their beach clean up- picking up trash, etc.
Cool guy.
Bill Clinton and his SS team jogged past me on the Mall one morning.
My uncle was driving around Pigeon Forge, Tennessee a few years ago. He needed to use the bathroom, so he pulled into a gas station.
As he pulled into the parking lot he saw a cop car with its lights on and an old pickup truck in front of it. (The cop had pulled the truck over and both were in the gas station’s parking lot.) My uncle noticed the guy in the truck had a long beard.
So my uncle goes to the bathroom. While he’s taking a piss, the guy with the long beard comes in and uses the urinal next to him. My uncle thought he looked familiar. They start talking, and it turned out the guy with the beard was Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top. Billy told my uncle the cop pulled him over for having an open container in the vehicle. (He got a ticket for it.) After they finished their business, both walked to Billy’s truck, wherein Billy gave my uncle an autographed photo.