Depends on how you feel about James Woods. He grew up in the city I live in and made/makes occasional visits home. The first time I met him was outside of a supermarket where he was stumping for his brother who was running for mayor. His platform consisted of “I’m James Woods’ brother” and he lost by about a 2.5/1 margin.
The other time I was stuck behind Jimmy at the Post Office, where he spent several minutes inquiring about the different rates to send “a very important package” to Hollywood. Strangely enough, he had a flunky with him who apparently was not up to the critical task of mailing a package. James apologized to all of us for the time this was taking, and managed to mention Hollywood at least twice.
I have three. They all qualify as personally embarrassing and impressively mediocre.
At age 12, ran into some guys in a park while cutting class with a friend. We joined them for pizza at their invitation to a nearby restaurant.
One of them asked, “Hey, did you guys go to the Grand Funk Railroad concert on Saturday?” Of course we had. “What did you think of their opening act, Black Oak Arkansas?” Me: “I thought they sucked.”
Yeah. It was them. Hadn’t even recognized them.
I was hurriedly shopping for a birthday card during my lunch hour at the local Hallmark store. A small man and his elegant, tall female companion lingered annoyingly at just the spot where I wanted to browse. After doing everything I could think of to encourage them to move along, I finally rather brusquely inserted my arm between them to snatch a card.
As the cashier rang up the purchase, she asked, “Do you know who that is?” Of course I did not. “Davy Jones of the Monkees,” she replied. Oh. Oops.
Driving through an unfamiliar-to-me parking lot in Malibu in a fairly new-to-me car, I got flustered and accidentally turned in front of another vehicle, causing it to stop suddenly to avoid hitting me. I cringed, as you do, making apologetic gestures to the other driver. He broke out in a wide, familiar grin, waving me off, and I realized that I had just cut off Dennis Quaid.
I’m angling to do something rude to Sam Elliot without realizing it one day soon. I hear he lives around here now.
I hesitate to call it a “brush with mediocrity”, since he was good at his job and a sincerely nice man withal, but I had lunch three or four times in the early 90’s with Keith Kallend, an Atlanta traffic reporter of minor celebrity. He was a big man, and amused us with tales of the contortions he needed to fit into the traffic helicopter. Fellow Browns fan, too. Good guy.
I shook hands with Gordon Jump at an academic decathlon awards ceremony. I went for drinks with Will Durst after a performance (a friend was trying to get a show produced with him at the time).
I rented a truck to Kolchak: The Night Stalker and sold propane to John-Boy. Helped Bob Newhart with hearing-aid batteries, and I swear to God, the store manager’s name was Darryl, and I made damn sure I introduced him!
I saw Lembit Öpik, MP in a pub near Downing Street once. Formerly engaged to a Cheeky Girl, he is currently Chairman of the Parliament of Asgardia (elected unopposed). Dear Lord.
This reminded me of my brush. Flying from Salt Lake City to Rapid City (ND) to meet up with some people for Sturgis, we noticed (on this small plane) these older guys all with really long hair. Didn’t recognize any of them, but as they were unloading all these bags at baggage claim, I noticed the various luggage had “Molly Hatchet” stenciled on them. They were playing at one of the venues for the Sturgis bike rally.
(I told my girlfriend that, on that flight, I had no idea we’d been “flirtin’ with disaster”
Varying levels of mediocrity here, but once in a single night of bar-hopping in Chicago in the early '90s, I met George Wendt (of Cheers fame), Bonnie Hunt (who had been in about 3 sitcoms to that point and was just beginning to become well-known), and the guy who played “Animal” on Herman’s Head.
That is Hilarious! I too saw Black Oak Arkansas (opening for Beck, Bogart and Appice, what a rotten show) and they did indeed suck. But… you told “JIM DANDY” to his face!!!
On my 50th birthday I got to have a brief one-sided conversation with Denny Laine (which consisted mostly of me saying, “Hey, Denny, great set, man,” and him saying, “Thanks, mate,” but I thought we really connected). I did, however, get to have a longer conversation with his drummer that evening, Steve Holley, who has played with Elton John, Ian Hunter, Wings, Joe Cocker, Chuck Berry. He was a great guy. He sat down and had a pint or three with me and a couple of my band-mates and regaled us with story upon story. He asked us about our band and was very gracious to hear our lame responses. It was cool night.
That’s the last time I drank too, apropos of nothing. Great night.
(how many people can say that, " … and I never drank again - great night!")
ETA: I guess I wouldn’t call Steve Holley mediocre, but rather only moderately famous
I met a couple of the Springboksonce at an Embassy party. I had no idea who they were, which apparently greatly offended the South African Ambassador, who was quite chuffed with his famous guests. Oops.
And I saw them at a festival in Milwaukee where they also sucked.
Oh, I got to split a blueberry muffin with John Michael Talbot (was in Mason Proffit, now a monk), and chatted with Bruce Cockburn (was a Canadian folkie, now a Canadian musician). Both mediocre in terms of fame, not talent.
