My day with Christopher Walken - part one

Let's try this one...

My friend Christopher Walken

What you are about to read is unequivocally...indisputably..irrefutably..100% accurate or my middle name is not Francis.

FIRST - THE MEETING

I got to spend a day with Christopher Walken once. My first year out of school I was interning for Simon and Schuster. Their big name author was Steven King at the time, hence the need for a local boy on the roster. I would do things like send out photos to fans, read through his fan mail and pass on the occasional letter that I thought he would like to see (remember, this was the early 80's, people still had to write letters), but mostly I would pick people up either at Logan, Portland, or Bangor and bring them to his house...wait until their meeting was done...and bring them back to the airport. Usually I wouldn't know the person, but occasionally it would be a celebrity.

Most were decent, fairly friendly, and were cool as long as you didn't bother them and minded your own business. Chris Walken was different. Not bad, not unfriendly (actually the extreme opposite), just different.

This is how the day went.

I was told to be at the airport at 6:00AM. The odd thing was that I wasn't supposed to deliver my passenger to the King's house (which was not being reverential...just a shortened version of "the king of horror" that he was labelled with at the time) until 5:00PM. It only took two hours to get to Bangor, which is where the King lived.

When I asked what I was supposed to do with the additional nine hours I had to kill, the answer was, "Your guest has some things he'd like to see". Good enough. I was never told who I was picking up until on my way to the airport. The instructions were always the same when picking up a passenger in Portland.. Go to the Maine Aviation private terminal, park at the front door, go in to greet the guest, take their bags, and bring them to the King's house.

On my way I found out I was picking up Christopher Walken. "That's cool", I thought. He was a great actor and seemed like one strange dude. Little did I know how strange.

So, I get to the airport, and within five minutes Chris walks off the plane. He has no luggage. He comes straight to me, extends his right hand, and says, "Good morning. I'm Dr. Michael Anthony Brace"

OK......

I didn't know until later (much later) that he liked to go by the name of his last character that he played for seventeen days after filming wrapped up. That was the name of the character he played from the last movie that he was in. Why seventeen days, who knew, but that would be one of the more normal occurrences from that day.

So, we get into the car and Chris says to me, " Do you know where the Porthole is?" I say I do. "That's where we're going." Not knowing why, I drive to the Porthole. Oh, and by the way, Chris is sitting in the front seat with me. Not just with me, next to me...literally...right next to me. His left leg is touching my right...his left arm is pressed against my right. Strange. I say nothing. Neither does he. I get to the Porthole and Chris says, "Park the car right over there". He points to an open space at the end of the wharf that the Porthole sits on. I do.

"OK, this is where we get out. See that car over there?" He points to a pristine black Cadillac. Black on the outside, black on the inside. All the chrome had been taken off of it except for the bumpers. It looked like a bullet. "That's my car. That's what we're taking. I'll drive and you be my wing man. Are you ready to have some fun?". So that was that. Christopher Walken had arranged to have his car delivered to a pier on the waterfront of Portland Maine so that he could drive it up to Bangor. 

This was the beginning of a big adventure.

NEXT- THE ROAD TO NOWHERE.......

Can you write about more than two wrongs?

Let's get started...
Here are two, quite popular vices

I won't tip my hand as to which one I prefer...some things need to remain a secret.

So....vices.

I left work early today...picked up my daughter...then got an ice cream cone..BEFORE SUPPER (Gasp!)

Any vices broken then? I think not...it was 80 degrees here today...here being Maine...today being March   22....usual temperature for this day in Maine is 45 degrees. Today was HOT...or as we say here in Maine...a wicked friggin' scorchah!

Is drinking a vice? Don't know, but if it is, good for me because that's one I don't abuse. Although full disclosure here...I am writing this while enjoying a Gritty's Pub Style...and I may have another before I'm done (and if this gets tough, maybe even another). Once again, me drinking a beer or two has less to do with this being a vice of mine than it does with it BEING A WICKED FRIGGIN' SCORCHAH today.

How about swearing. OK, I'll own up to this one. I do this one. Seldom around the house...more so at work...frequently with friends. I think I prefer profanity used as an adjective rather than a noun. Swearing with verbs would be my second favorite use. Curse words that are nouns are vulgar, and I'm not a vulgar guy. Curse words used as adjectives are colorful...and surprising...and fun. Go ahead try swearing to yourself...first as nouns...then verbs....then adjectives. Which do you prefer? Thought so. Isn't the English language a fucking riot?

Then you've got wrath, vanity, and weakness. But I'm above all of those, and you can shove it where the sun don't shine...unless of course you don't agree. You're probably right and I'm wrong.....

There's jealousy, but that's not me, unless of course I see someone doing something that I wish I was doing...

Greed doesn't really apply. I'm always happy with what I have (as long as it's more than the next guy).

I never brag or am arrogant....except when I feel the need to point out my superiority to inferior people. If I even choose to speak to them.

Anger's not even in my vocabulary, well it is now obviously. Thanks for pointing that out. I never would have done that to you. EVERYTHING DOESN'T NEED TO BE PERFECT ...EXCEPT FOR YOU ...JUST DROP IT, OK? FORGET I EVEN BROUGHT IT UP,OK. JESUS, ENOUGH ALREADY. LET IT GO.

How was that? Believable? Didn't think so. This is the only mad I'm comfortable with...

Alright...two beers down, best to stop now, or I'll have to do some heavy editing tomorrow morning.

As the Doobie Brothers (the awesome version of the Doobies with Tom Johnston and not the the benign version of the Doobies with Michael McDonald...if you doubt me, do yourself a favor and do some research) album title from the mid 70's said...

Once Were Once Vices Are Now Habits

Oh, by the way, I hear it might snow on Monday.

Ain't that a kick in the fucking pants.

Peace out.

This is a bunch of blarney....

St. Patrick's Day...

That's right. Thin Lizzy. Irish band all the way. Even though this is called the cowboy song. Listen to it while drinking a shamrock shake if that makes you feel any better. I could have gone with the obvious...Van Morrison...U2...the Pogues (who I actually had the pleasure to see back up U2)..the Chieftains...the Irish Rovers, but I'm choosing Thin Lizzy.
Enough already.
Carry on.

I remember (back in the day) when Mr. Bagel would give out free green bagels on St. Patrick's Day. I'm not just talking about going into one of their shops and buying one, I mean stopping at a red light on the corner of High and Congress and having someone walk up to your car...knock on your window...and hand you a green bagel. Times were so much simpler then.

As a kid you always wanted to be Irish on St. Patrick's Day. I remember asking my Mom how much Irish we were once. How much Irish we were? What is that? That's like asking the Smith's how much human they are...or asking spaghetti how much boiled dinner it is...or coffee how much beer it is.

That doesn't even make sense.



But, I always wore green to school that day...even if it wasn't visible.



Why risk the wrath of all of those other non Irish kids pointing out that you weren't Irish because of what color you were (or weren't) wearing. God forbid you wore orange...because that meant you HATED Irish people. Actually that's a kids version of an over simplification of the green favored by Catholics and the orange favored by Protestants.

I think.

Maybe not.

Actually I don't know.

You know why I don't know?

BECAUSE I'M NOT IRISH.



Then there's that crap about St. Patrick being responsible for driving the snakes out of Ireland. While true, there are no snakes in Ireland, but that has as much to do with leprechauns or four leaf clovers as it does St. Patrick. Once again a symbolism thing...equating snakes to the pagans that were driven out of Ireland to make way for Christianity. Again, with the religion, but you know, I'm not really sure about this one either BECAUSE I'M NOT IRISH. REMEMBER?


Speaking of leprechauns. I'm a little fuzzy on the whole leprechaun thing.
Are they good?
Are the evil?
Don't they make shoes?
How do they get that pot o' gold?
Do they live at the end of a rainbow or is that just where they hang out? What's the best way to catch one?
Do they eat lucky charms?
Are they taller than a gnome? How about an elf?
Do they all wear those funny leprechaun hats?
Do they have to have red hair?
Once again, I don't know these things BECAUSE I'M NOT IRISH. REMEMBER?

Then there's the beer.

This is the hook for most people. Maybe St. Patrick and his buddies would sit around the pub at night and talk about creating this mystery holiday. There was a poll once that asked "Which holiday do you most associate with beer?" No surprise St. Patrick's Day came in first, followed by Cinco de Mayo, and then, surprisingly, Flag Day and Groundhog Day.




Why don't you join me and my friends down at the Griffin Club, say about 5:00PM or so?

Around 7:00 we plan on making the Fore river turn green. Although that plan was hatched by a Flaherty last year. Let's see how that goes.

So get out the green gear...find your shamrock decorations...root for the Celtics..have a Guinness or two...and enjoy your St. Patrick's Day...EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT IRISH!

would you do it for a scooby snack?

first this...

now this...
Fashion etiquette test.
Wearing your pajamas in public.

I just went to the local bakery wearing my pajamas.


Should I have? I figured quick in quick out...make no eye contact...talk to no one. It's a Friday morning when I had the day off, but I'm usually at work...everyone else must be as well, right?
Well...no.

First there was the woman with the petition to sign...actually three women with petitions to sign. Apparently one of them was running for state senate...or the mayor of willard square...or ambassador to Bug Light..or some such thing. All three of them acted a bit entitled to be harassing a guy in his pajamas. I signed their petitions...one of them as Stu Pididiot, the second as Phil McCracken, and the third as Harry Paratesties (I'll let you mull that one for a minute).

That took care of them.


Inside the bakery...once again not expecting to actually run into anyone I knew I somehow managed to have conversations about...
Dweezil Zappa...


sweet potatoes....


Dr. J....


R. Crumb...


and bacon cupcakes...yes, that's right...bacon cupcakes




30 minutes later, I had finally paid for my bagels and was leaving.
...only to be accosted  by the head petitioner.
It went something like this..
Her -"Would you like to sign "
Me, not letting her finish-"Already did"
Her, not listening -"I'm running for"
Me, interrupting again - "Already did"
Her, pushing forward - "blahbady blah blah"
Me, (sighing) - "Where do I sign"
I sign and hand back her clipboard
Her - "Thank you Mr. Dover"
Me - "Just call me Ben"




None of these folks noticed..or cared ...I was wearing my pajamas.
So the juries still out.

One thing I do know... the pajamas in public test went much better than the clown suit in public test





Peace, love, and bacon cupcakes.

Nothing from nothing leaves nothing

My specialty..a whole lot of something about a whole lot of nothing.

Billy Preston the (one of the many) fifth Beatle
..and there is some impressive hair in this band !

..although I don't think they really classify as a hair band.

THIS, would be a hair band

This is Ratt ( I think). Yes, Ratt with two t's. What can I say other than it was the 80's.
I actually shared a hotel with Ratt..or at least their tour bus was in the hotel parking lot, I think it was at my brother in laws wedding, or maybe not. I don't recall seeing any Ratts walking around the hotel, but it was about 20 years past their prime, for all I know this could have been a picture of the members of the band. If I recall, these guys were quite a handful.

...and the ladies loved them.

Switching gears...
I had a super hero dream last night, although I don't have total recall, it involved most of the superheros I loved as a kid. Somehow, I was the Flash, with one exception. I wasn't fast. So I don't really know how that was working out...all my other superhero friends still had all their super powers, but not me..I just had my "regular powers".


All my other superhero friends never noticed, they were flying, and stretching, and hovering, and flaming on, and getting all invisible and so forth. I remember saying to Batman ( I think it was the George Clooney Batman), that I wasn't good for long distances, but I'm ok with short bursts of speed. Well, that, my friends, would be a lie. I'm not a runner, never was, never will be. Even when I was a fairly decent athlete... when I was younger (emphasis on fairly), I was never a runner. I don't get it...running is not fun, people that run are nuts. Lot's of my friends like to run, and somehow, they are still my friends.
Does this look fun to you?


No, you're right, it doesn't. So why?

The last running I did was running down to the store, but that involved getting into my car and driving.






Switch.

While vacuuming today I realized I'm a much better guest than a host. Don't ask me why it came to me while I was vacuuming, but it is very true.

Next.

So I've told you about my brush with death...
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-is-one.html
and
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-is-one-twoor-this-is-one-tooor.html

...but I had a couple of others.

One involved me, two friends, a canoe, a whole bunch of beer, and a pea coat.


Did you know that a pea coat can absorb nearly 600 lbs of water?

Another involved two friends (once again), a Ford Escort, an icy road, an 18 wheeler, and at least one poor choice. This one deserves a blog of it's own...but here's a clue


...and then there was that episode of Glee. I thought I was goners during that....

On another note.

You know I can't dance.
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-was-travelling-down-road-feeling.html
and I'm ok with that.

But you know what I wish I could do?

Sing.

I love music...I often post about music...I've (sort of) learned to play the guitar..I can (sort of) read music...I bet I could write a decent song or two. But I can't sing.
Anytime I try it sounds like a cross between Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, and Tiny Tim.

         

How's that for the three caballeros?

In my mind, this is what I dream of

Well, As Steven Tyler said...Dream On.

That's about enough nonsense for now.
I'll leave you with this....

Best of luck Jason Varitek,
thanks for getting traded to the Red Sox for Heathcliff Slocumb...
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/12/whos-guy-that-writes-those-books.html

thanks for those two world series championships...


and thanks for feeding A Rod a mouthful of leather



Peace.