When it comes to celebrity encounters, I'm somewhat lucky. In my travels through the years, I've randomly bumped into Martin Sheen, Reba McEntire, Bob Uecker (RIP), Marc Maron, and more. However, two stand out.
While having a drink in the Driskill lobby bar at SXSW in Austin, my friend Mike and I saw Billy Crystal. Mike loves Billy Crystal and was eager to pounce. In a rare reserved moment (I've been known to pounce myself), I said nothing and took a moment to assess the City Slicker in the wild. Glasses perched on his furrowed brow and a scowl on his face, Mr Saturday Night was not happy. Something in his phone had Billy very, very mad.
“If we go over there, I feel like we're going to have a bad Billy Crystal story,” I cautioned. Best to leave it alone. Ironically, a better encounter came from someone Crystal often impersonated early in his career.
I was at the airport on my way back from a conference in San Antonio when Muhammad Ali walked up to my gate. He was older, slower, and quieter but still every bit the champ. Pouncing The Greatest seemed like the wrong move from the jump. However, my gate-mates were not as inhibited. He stood for countless photos, smiling and nodding. Finally, the guy next to me asked if I'd take his picture with the champ. “Only if you take mine too!” I blurted out.
When it was my turn, I stood beside him and smiled for the camera. As I stepped back toward my seat, a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was Ali, moving me—and that's exactly how you phrase it when Muhammad Ali has hands on you! He positioned me squarely across from him, pressed my hands into fists, and brought one of my fists to his face. The crowd erupted with laughter as the picture below was taken.
