My best story isn’t really mine at all; the closest thing I have to a surreal VIP encounter was seeing Gregory Hines in line in front of me in a camping supply store, where I was buying a water filter before leaving for Siberia the next day, in hopes of not being infected by giardia parasites and spending the entire trip in intestinal agony. I kept thinking, “Hey, I saw that guy in White Nights! I wonder if he’d ever want to go to Siberia for real?” But I left him alone.
The best one I’ve heard so far is an ex-boyfriend’s. He peed on Khruschchev. Yes, literally.
My ex was born and raised in Moscow, and during the period when he was an infant, the ring road (Sadovoye Kol’tso) around Moscow was being built. His parents took a drive to go look at the construction site, and they had my ex in a stroller. It was hot out, so baby was completely naked (not unusual at the time).
Just then a big Volga limo drives up, pulls over, and out hops Mr. General Secretary. Ol’ Nikolai was apparently a big baby-kisser, so he asked my ex’s parents if he could hold the baby. What were they going to say, no? Baby was passed to Fearless Leader, and promptly squirted all over him. The parents were terrified: would Khruschchev drop the baby? Would they be sent to the gulag? Luckily, being of hardy and not easily surprised peasant stock, he just handed the baby back, wiped himself off, chuckled “Kids!,” and drove away. That was my ex’s one and only encounter with Soviet leadership.
Not a celeb encounter, but a VIP one none the less.
I worked for a hotel chain, and they threw a huge staff party for 2000 employees at one of the hotels. Fantastic bash
I had been for a swim and was on my way back up to my room, soaking wet and in a robe. I encountered another employee in the lift, “Roland” according to his name tag.
“God, this is a bloody lovely hotel isn’t it?” I remarked. Roland smiled and agreed with me as I got out of the lift. I went back to my room to ask my colleagues which hotel the nice man Roland worked at. They looked at me in horror and demanded to know exactly what I had said. Roland owns the company, no wonder he agreed that it was a nice hotel, he wouldn’t have bought it otherwise!
These are my husband’s - when he was a college freshman, he went to a freshman orientation/reception. He turned around quickly and in doing so smacked into a petite woman, splattering her coffee all over her bright yellow blazer. In horror, he realized it was the chancellor of the university, Donna Shalala (this was the University of Wisconsin, and she later went on to be the Secretary of the US Department of Health and Human Services). He figured he was doomed, but she just laughed, said it wasn’t a big deal, and walked off while wiping at the coffee stain.
The other was a few years ago. He was on the job as a letter carrier for the USPS, delivering mail in a suburb of Chicago. A big car pulls up, and a rear window rolls down. He looks in and sees a tough-looking female driver, and a couple women in the back seat. One of the women in the back, by his description, has pixie-ish good looks, piercing blue eyes, and a nice voice; she asks him how to get back onto one of the expressways. He gives her directions, she thanks him, and they part ways. A year or so later, he’s watching TV and recognizes the woman who asked directions - it was the singer Natalie Imbruglia.
Yeah, I met Dr. Martin Luther King in 1962 in Memphis, Tennessee. I’m walking down the street, minding my own business, just walking along, feeling good. I walk around a corner. A man walk up, hit me in my chest, right? I fall on the ground, right? And I look up, and it’s Dr. Martin Luther King! I said, “‘Dr. King!’ He said, ‘Oops, I thought you was somebody else.’”
I was working at Astro World (an amusment park in Houston) as a teenager in the mid 80s. They had some big name (for the times) singers come and perform there.
So one night I was selling Cokes and overpriiced prezles at a Billy Idol concert. After the concert we were cleaning up the soda stand and a manager came by and asked if any of us were certified lifeguards. I was and he motioned for me to come with him.
He said Billy and the band wanted to go swimming in the giant wave pool in the WaterWorld section and they needed at least 2 certified lifeguards to let them.
So I guarded the life of Billy Idol. He was actually really nice and gave me (and the other lifeguard) a big hug for letting them be able to swim in this huge pool after getting so sweaty during the concert.
He was at the height of his fame at the time, so it was quite a thrill.
I took a piss standing beside the Governor once, and I also cut a SBD fart on the elevator right before he got on. In neither case did he acknowledge that I existed. Hey, he’s a busy guy.
A couple of months ago, I stopped into the pub where my sister tends bar. She let me stand behind the bar, and we chatted a little bit when she had some spare seconds. A little while after I got there, Maya Angelou came in and sat at the far end of the bar, had some wine, and tried to converse with her companions. Various and sundry bar patrons kept going up asking for autographs.
What was surreal to me was that it was just a grubby neighborhood dive in Fells Point - not the sort of place you expect to find such a famous poet. I forgot to ask my sister how well she tipped.
In her younger days, she was working at a restaurant in Barstow, CA. A group of young men came in and as the hostess she seated them and poured their coffee. A little while later she came by to refill the coffee cups, and one of the men slapped her back side. She kindly asked him to not do that again. The men all had a good laugh and she walked away. Fast forward a little while and she comes around again to refill the coffee cups. Again the same guy slapped her butt, she responds by pouring the pot of coffee into his lap.
Their meal ended, the men leave and another restaurant worker whispers to her “I can’t believe you did that to Steve Tyler”.
I used to work for the State Department. While posted in Lisbon, we had a visit by the Black Caucus, on their way to South Africa to observe the elections. These are all (supposedly) highly respected members of Congress. My part in this was to insure that all the baggage got on the plane when they left.
To this end, I had to show up at the hotel at about three in the morning. I stepped off the elevator into a full-blown (pardon the pun) all-nighter, complete with hookers and booze that they had stolen from the hospitality suite. Somewhat surreal, yes, but more appalling than anything else. Aside from the liquor they drank on the spot, a case of 20-year old port was taken, value about $700. After 10 years, I still have trouble getting my head around the whole thing.
Now, this reply has nothing to do with race, so just relax. I am simply relating events. I’m sure this sort of thing goes on with many congressional delegations, regardless of ethnicity.
I worked in a big, luxury hotel in Sydney for a while and we used to serve our share of famous people. But the most memorable encounter for me was walking out of an elevator and running headlong into Tony Bennett. He was about 6 inches shorter than me. It was not a big collision, more just a bumping of bodies. I apologised, so did he, and we went on our way.
A guy i worked with at that hotel had a less-than-pleasant encounter with a celebrity. We were waiters at a big charity fund-raiser, with a whole bunch of famous and thought-they-were-famous people. One of the guests was a guy by the name of Ian Chappell, who had been captain of the Australian cricket team in the 1970s and had then been host of Wide World of Sports in Sydney as well as a cricket commentator.
Chappell was wearing a pristine (but rather tacky) white suit, and one of my fellow-waiters managed to spill a full glass of red wine all over him. Chappell was very unhappy, my co-worker was moritfied, and i almost pissed my pants laughing.
When i worked at a country house hotel in the Lake District in England, the WWII singer Vera Lynn came to stay. I was into photography, and the hotel manager had me take a picture of her which, AFAIK, still hangs in hotel somewhere.
I was working as a movie theatre manager in NYC and we were hosting the HUGE premier of Die Hard 3. I hadn’t been in NYC too long and not much earlier the OKC bombing (where I had come from) had occured. So I was on edge about terrorism. (good practice for my life now)
Anyway
We have this huge premier. They rent out the entire theatre and have about 6 screens for just Die Hard 3. Then someone from the home office gives me a special duty. They point out this guy who clearly does not belong. He looks like a homeless guy and he has a huge backpack. I’m told that sometimes a celeb like Howard Stern will give his ticket to a homeless guy as a joke. So I standing near this guy in the crowded lobby and then to my left someone says ‘excuse me’ as I was blocking their path. I step back and let Claudia Schiffer pass by me and go back to watching the ultimatley harmless guy.
Another time at the theatre we some movie was sold out and there was a group of three women, (well two women and a girl who was the daughter of one of the women) and they can’t find three together. So I look for seats, nope not there and then I tell them we have another show starting in about 45 mins and I write on their tickets to change the showtime and tell them that if the usher stops them to tell them that manager Zebra said it was ok and they worry so I give them my card to show the usher. After I walk away some of the other managers start making fun of me for fawning all over Christy Brinkley and giving her my card. Really I didn’t know it was her.
Recently I was in Green Bay, WI, for work, and while returning my rental car this guy standing next to me looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place the face.
I finished up with my transaction, and he left the counter and went over to the rest of his party where his luggage was. When I saw his face, I realized who it was-
Ted Lange.
That’s right, Isaac the bartender from the Love Boat.
I didn’t ask for an autograph, although I thought about it. I just caught his eye, and then made the double-handed finger gun move he used to do on the show. He burst out laughing, and nodded. We then went on our merry ways.
Oh Oh!! good thread because I have a recent enounter. This past monday my wife was picking up prescriptions at Target. She was standing in line behind a rather largeish fellow in birkenstocks, shorts, a wind breaker and a hat. He was quite red from a sun burn… It was his turn and he wen tup to the counter. The pharmacy assistant got slightly red in her face and said: Name Please…
Baldwin.
Here you go sir, she said. he paid with cash and he was off. But not before a glance at my wife, (who’s actually quite attractive, but anyway) she kind of smirked and smiled… put his glasses on and left.
So my wife some home with that story, of how she saw Alec Baldwin in Target.
Most of you won’t know who I’m talking about but back in the 1980’s there was this huge latin soap opera star and singer named Jose Luis Rodriguez. He was also called El Puma. I think after a popular soap opera character he played. Anyway, one Sunday I’m walking through Burdines, a department store in Florida, and someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked me what I thought of the pants he was holding. Yup, it was Jose Luis Rodriguez, why he chose me I have no idea, it’s not like I looked like some fashion guru.
There was also the time boating off Key Largo with some friends, we pulled over to a sandbard in front of a popular bar, Holiday Isle, and waded to shore to buy some drinks. There were only a couple of boats pulled up to the bar, but in one of them were two beautiful girls, with tiny, tiny bikini bottoms and no tops at all, with an old guy. As I’m walking by I was thinking “Lucky bastard, he must be rich or something.” Then I looked away from the girls and actually noticed the guy, it was Julio Iglesias.
You did say surreal, right? Probably the most surreal encounter was in a Miami club. I was walking in, and a falling-down-drunk guy was walking out and bumped into my date. I grabbed the guy’s arm and gave him a stern “Watch it bud”, as I did so I noticed that it was Jan Michael Vincent, this was before he downspiraled into his street bum look, so he was still recognizable. Anyway, he apologized, shook my hand and offered to buy us some drinks. I declined at first, but he insisted in that “won’t take no for an answer” way drunks have, so I finally accepted.
We proceeded to his booth in the VIP lounge, and for the rest of the night we drank on Jan Michael Vincent’s tab. He was actually very nice and talkative, but since the music was blasting I could not hear a thing he said. Every time my date and I came back from dancing, JMV was sleeping but roused himself enough to order more drinks, every single time. When we finally left he walked us out to the valet and everything.
My ex and I were eating at a Wendy’s in the mid eighties - and who should walk in (with bodyguards) but former President Richard Nixon!
Yep, Tricky Dick in the flesh, going through the line at Wendy’s. My ex came from a very Republican-oriented family, and he just about fell over himself - Richard kindly agreed to give him an autograph. Strange experience.
She’s the one who sang the closing song in Dr. Strangelove, “We’ll Meet Again”. I had the same thought you did the first time I heard a reference to a real true Vera Lynn.
Sorry, but I never met anyone famous. And if I did, I wouldn’t recognize them – I just don’t remember faces at all.
I guess I’ll just provide a link between two prior concepts: movie theaters and governors. Our very unpopular governor came to our theater once, complete with his “posse” of state troopers. They gave the building a once-over and then escorted him in through the back door.
When I was fifteen I had an occasional job working for La Brasserie, a French restaurant in DC. They would cater events for VIPs around town. Their most important event of the year was a catered dinner at the US Supreme Court. Our whole family was employed. My brother worked doing prep in the kitchen, my sister was the coat check girl, and I was the designated gofer.
We saw all the justices and my sister spoke briefly with Sandra Day O’Connor. My highlight was being sent downstairs to refill the soup. I was carrying a steaming hot tin of soup in a huge container. I got on the elevator on the third floor. It stopped at the second and Ed Meese got on.
I was raised in a Democratic family, so I knew I was in the company of the enemy. He glared at me all the way down as the soup sloshed back and forth. I knew I was in for it if a drop spilled on him. I almost wish I had dropped it.
I still miss that job. After that event my job was to tend bar at ages fifteen and sixteen. Gotta love the French as they couldn’t imagine why anyone would have a problem with that.
