It’s true. It happened this afternoon at the Chili’s in downtown Chicago. My friend Francois and I walked into the place and were greeted by a tall, lanky man with an unshaven face sitting by himself in a booth eating chips and queso, chicken fingers cooked in the Awesome Blossom batter, and a half-rack of Baby Back Ribs. We knew immediately who he was.
Paul. Thomas. Ander. Son.
I walk up to him without hesitation and say “Mr. Anderson…” in my best Hugo Weaving impersonation. He looks up and says “Hello? Do I know you?”
“My name is Jeremy!”
“My name is Francois!”
And then the both of us in unison said: “We are your biggest fans!”
A small little smile existed on his face and he said “Well, thank you both!”
I was on such a high. I took out my copy of Hard Eight that I carry around with me instead of a wallet and asked him to sign it.
“Hey! Now you know that the true title of this film is "Sydney""
I giggled and said “I knew that, Mr. Anderson!”
Francois then asked him “Mr. Anderson, you’re one of the best directors in the world. Would you…could you…perhaps direct us in a scene?”
Paul (Yeah, I call him that now) said “Absolutely! Okay the scene is this. You are two men who are sitting in this booth…”
“…and eating chips and queso, with chicken cooked in the Awesome Blossom batter, and a half-rack of Baby Back Ribs.”
“Now eventually a waitress is going to come with a bill. I want you to pay it.”
And just like that.
He was gone.
Great story, man!
I once, like, met Tarantino in a Taco Bell. It was rad.
I once met Robert Altman at the salad bar of a Sizzler in Culver City.
I’ve had chips and queso.
I saw Stone Cold getting frozen yogurt once……
I’ve eaten soybeans.
I saw Wes and Paul W S Anderson fighting each other in a dumpster behind Chili’s. Then I had a flashback to when I saw Michael and Lindsay Anderson fighting each other in a dumpster behind McDonalds about twenty five years ago.
I met Jean-Luc Godard once at a Carl’s Jr. in Boise, Idaho. He was eating a foot-long cheeseburger with waffle fries. When I asked him why he chose the waffle fries over the regular fries, he responded, “Beauty is composed of an eternal, invariable element whose quantity is extremely difficult to determine, and a relative element which might be, either by turns or all at once, period, fashion, moral, passion.”
“John Lennon knows your name / and I’ve seen his.”
If this is so, then all I can say is how dare you disrupt the man alone with his thoughts. Do not distract him! You could have possibly seen them in motion a few years later…
I met Karel Vachek in a butcher shop selling mushrooms that complimented certain meats.
But, unfortunately, he’s so obscure not even he knew who he was.
I met Terrence Malik once at the airport in Dallas. I asked him if he knew what the meaning of life was. He said “No. Do you?”
Can somebody move this thread to the the “Kinda Lame Humor That’s Vaguely Film Related” tab now?
I met Matt Parks once at an Olive Garden in Alexandria, Virginia. I asked him what he recommended. He told me “The chicken Alfredo was warm and comforting on a cold day. The portion was generous.” I decided against the raspberry lemonade, however, until it was warmer.
I wish I would bump into John Waters at Big Boy’s. :(
They have raspberry lemonade at the Olive Garden???
@Wu Yong :)
I met William Devane at a polo match in suburban Chicago in the first years of the 21st-century. His boots were muddy and he he was taking slugs from a magnum of red wine. After I introduced myself, he told me that his father served as FDR’s chaffeur; I’m pretty sure he was lying. Nevertheless, he was charming; despite the Cabernet, his breath smelled of peppermints, and my girlfriend at the time—resting her head on my shoulder on the El on the way home—whispered, “I think I love Bill Devane” as we rolled into our station. Shit. That’s not a pleasant memory.
I’ve met many filmmakers and performers over the years but the two incidents that best fit the “lame humor” of this thread are these:
I peed into a urinal next to Peter Fonda, while we discussd Easy Rider, which had just screened during its 25th anniversary year, and Hired Hand, which he said was "a better Western than The Searchers.
I also bussed a serving tray for Michelangelo Antonioni at a cafeteria at Cornell University.
My dad (a pilot) once let Harry Wayne Casey (the boogeyman himself) cut the security line at the Atlanta airport.
That’s a true story, too.
God, I love raspberry lemonade.
Two great tastes that taste great together.
When it comes to lemonade variants, I’m more of a half and half guy myself.
The Arnold Palmer?
More Nantucket Nectar but I’ll settle for an Arnold Palmer if that’s what’s around.
My grandma met Van Heflin while she was a waitress. She asked him if he really punched Alan Ladd out in Shane. I guess, there are worse things one could say.
I was at a Marie Calender’s Restaurant in the San Fernando Valley, this is the 80’s w/ my friend Tim. We’re waiting to be seated.
There’s a family before us & then a couple enter. The man, taking stock of the waiting area looks over to his girlfriend and says ––excitedly: Look honey, it’s Opie!
It turned out to be Ron Howard and his family. I felt terrible ‘cause as soon as the cretin said that, you could see poor Ron wince as if he’d just been punched in the gut.