Ever had that moment when you finally meet your big-time hero, and instead of the epic connection you imagined, it’s like a deflating balloon? We’re diving deep into the real-life stories of regular folks who got the chance to meet their idols, only to realize they’re just as human as the rest of us – flaws and all. Let’s be honest, it’s a bit of a buzzkill, but hey, life’s full of surprises!
I was dying to meet Jason Momoa and I finally got the chance to at an after-party for an indie movie he was in. It was at a small venue in LA with some bands playing.
Jason walked in and a few people started talking to him; once they passed I bought a beer and approached him. I gave him the beer and asked how his night was. He was kinda drunk already from the look of it, but he pounded the beer without saying anything. I wasn’t too sure what to think so I got more to the point and asked if it would be cool to get a pic. He leaned into my face and said, “Tonight isn’t about that. Tonight is about me.” and walked away.
Not even 5 minutes later he was taking pics with some other people across the venue and signing some autographs.
Aquaman owes me a beer d*mn it.
I’ve never met anyone that was an idol of mine that I had a bad experience with.
However, my best friend growing up had his go so bad he ended what was nearly 20 years of fandom right then and there. He worked for one of the big shoe stores and had won a contest to go to the All-Star festivities for the NBA. He met a lot of current and former players and coaches and had a blast. Until he met Michael Jordan. Being a sneakerhead, my friend owned originals or rereleases of every shoe Jordan ever had up until that point. It was something like 30 shoes if you counted the different colorways. Posters, jerseys, trading cards, and memorabilia of all types adorned a room at his apartment. He sees Jordan and decides to just kind of hang out until he is done talking and just get a quick meet and greet, no photo, no autograph, just to say hey. Jordan ends his conversation and my friend steps up near him and Jordan basically asks him who the f*ck he is, what he wants and acts like an a**h*le. My friend just tells him that he was a big fan and it was great to finally meet him. Jordan basically says, “Yeah, whatever” and walks away.
He got home from the trip and started selling off his collection of shoes and all things Jordan. He had heard the stories and assumed they were just overblown or didn’t happen. Nope, Jordan is a c*ck in real life.
As a 70’s kid, Star Wars was my life back then. I was obsessed with it all for much of my youth. Literally. Everything I owned, wore, played with, watched, listened to, read, or otherwise consumed was directly Star Wars related.
Fast forward many years. I am at San Diego Comic-Con walking the floor. I am just standing off to the side people watching and resting a bit when I casually look up at the person next to me and it is Mark f*cking Hamill. I nearly sh*t myself. I wanted to say something cool, but my star-struck brain failed me.
“I used to have your face on my underwear!”
Yeah……that’s the first thing out of my mouth. He had a good laugh, we talked for a few minutes about Star Wars, Joker, and Wing Commander. Pretty soon a few other people recognized him and he basically said he had to move on. He gave me his autograph and vanished into the crowd.
I met one of the artists from ZZ Top at a super nice hotel in Louisville. Wasn’t a big deal to me but was to my cousin.
My cousin asked, “I’m sorry to bother you, but may I get an autograph? I’m a really big fan!”
The One Z replied, “Sure thing, let me run up to my room really quickly and get the rest of the guys.”
We watched him go up to the room and waited for a little over an hour. My cousin cried.
F*ck that Z in particular.
I grew up with a poster of Cameron Diaz on my wall. Always thought she was the dopest. Then I met her and she was rude, stuck up, and made me get out of an elevator I was already in so she could ride it up alone. We were going to the same event. She later didn’t acknowledge the elevator ride when we were introduced by a mutual friend. Made me think she’s always like that. She may be hot but I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole anymore.
When I was in 2nd grade, I thought Bob Feller (pitcher from the Indians back in the day) was the greatest thing ever. I read about him constantly. When Cleveland opened its new Jacob’s Field stadium, he was there signing autographs all day. I went to the exhibition game with my dad.
Around 10 pm we were walking to our car in the lot, and my dad notices Bob Feller is like ten feet away walking with some guy. He’s like – Do you want to ask him for an autograph? So I go over there, this tiny little white-haired blonde girl, and I was like “Excuse me, Mr. Feller, can I have your autograph?”
He turns to me and is like “God dam*it, no. I’ve been signing autographs all day, I’m not signing another one, Jesus Christ.”
I didn’t know what to do so I just kinda froze and walked back to my dad and teared up. My dad was so sad because he knew he was my hero, so he took the paper from me and was like “Mr. Feller would you reconsider? She’s 8, she reads about you every night, you’re her hero.” He was like “Give me the godd*mn paper!” Signed his name real quick, and my dad thanked him so much and walked back to me to give it to me. He was like “Here honey!”
Loud enough for Feller to hear (which was an accident lol), I was like “I don’t want it anymore.”
After telling that story here and there I found out apparently he is a huge d*ck and has a reputation for being constantly nasty. Oh well.
A bit of a niche interest, but I had always really loved Spalding Grey. I read everything he wrote, saw all his films of his monologues, and I finally got the chance to see him do a monologue live. Afterwards, there was a book signing and, because it was a small venue in a little beach town (he was just workshopping his new show), it would be an intimate little event where I felt sure I get some real face time. I was over the moon.
I felt there was something in his writing that meant we were sort of kindred spirits and we would hit it off right away when we met. He wrote about himself as very modest, down to earth, and charmingly neurotic, but also seemingly unaware of his fame and quite lonely. I genuinely thought we would meet and really connect, and have a great little conversation.
My turn came up and I was all ready to start with my opening question. I don’t remember what it was, though I’m sure I considered it the epitome of the kind of dry wit he and I could really appreciate together. But he just yanked the book out of my hand, scribbled his name in it and handed it back to me, already looking at who was behind me. I didn’t even get a word out. Man, did that bubble burst hard. A very sobering lesson that I never forgot.
I met Richard Madden (Robb Stark on GoT), at a VIP section of a club that I snuck into during SD Comic-Con 2014. Was having a good chat with him about GRR Martin. At that time there were a lot of rumours that Martin was in poor health, so I made the standard comment of “Man, how much would it suck if he died before he finished writing the series!”
Richard responded something like “Well, he’s a great guy and a friend of mine, so it would suck if he died, yeah.”
The conversation died pretty quickly after that.
So yeah, don’t meet tour heroes, cos you’ll just say something stupid.
In January 2002, I was invited as a guest to a 101st Airborne reunion as I was writing my masters thesis on the correct way to implement television and movie content in the classroom and I’d chosen the HBO “Band of Brothers” series as an example for a typical high school American History class.
One of my sources was a local man who I’d met through the local war museum and he invited me to come with him to the reunion. “Wild” Bill Guarnere and Edward “Babe” Heffron BOTH happened to attend. I rushed back to the hotel and got my copy of their book “Brothers in Battle, Best of Friends”.
I stood near their table for several minutes, waiting for a break in the conversation, then spoke up. I introduced myself, why I was there, and asked if I could get them to sign my copy of their book.
Bill Guarnere was not pleased to be bothered by a fan and got very mad at me, telling me to “f*ck off”. I was super disappointed and apologized.
Two weeks later, I received a new signed copy of their book along with a signed copy of “Band of Brothers” by Stephen Ambrose. Included was a letter from Ambrose (but signed by the two veterans as well) explaining that Bill and the other members of Easy Company were not in good moods that day because many of them had just found out that Carwood Lipton had passed away less than a month ago. They apologized and thanked me for being understanding.
I was a huge fan of Ryan Cabrera through college. His voice is mediocre at best, and his melodies are simple but catchy. Despite this, I really identified with his lyrics when going through a really bad breakup that spun me off into destructive behavior during the second half of college. Always came back to his music and it eventually got me out.
Fast forward to 2016, and Ryan’s out on tour, I was able to see him perform live for the first time in my life and got the opportunity to meet him after the show. I had rehearsed what I was going to say about how his music kept me going through my darkest times…and he completely brushed me off to hit on my friends.
Haven’t listened to his music since.
I didn’t meet Allen Iverson, my mom did but this seems relevant to this thread. My family would frequent Atlantic City during my childhood. My mom loved to play the game 3 card poker and had a favorite table she would always play at Bally’s. Well, she went to play one day and saw that it was blocked by security guards because low and behold, my favorite basketball player Allen Iverson was using it. She sat at the next table and casually struck up a conversation with one of the security guards. She talked to him on and off for an hour and mentioned to him that her son was a huge fan of AI. The bouncer saw her with a pen and cocktail napkin and looked in the opposite direction. My mom approached AI and asked if she could get his autograph for her son who was a huge fan. He told her “Get the f*ck away from me you f*cking b*tch”. I threw away his Jersey I owned the next day and have hated the 76ers ever since.
When I was still in high school my best friend, his older sister and I “met” Adrian Peterson, future Hall of Fame running back for the Minnesota Vikings. And it SUCKED. We all happened to be walking into a mall in the suburbs of Minneapolis at the same time, and he was walking right in front of us. My buddy and I got all excited, and I made eye contact with him so I knew that he knew we recognized him, but before we could say “Hey Mr Peterson, big fans,” he held the door open for my friend’s sister, checked out her a** and whistled at her, then closed the door right in my friend and I face. Didn’t even want to say anything to him after that. This was 6-7 years ago now and I’m still salty about it.
Buzz Aldrin
He was attending a senior design presentation at my school and was basically the guest of honor and got his own little speech. I was really hyped because I love space and everything surrounding it. He’s a nice guy but the sad truth is that he’s closer now to just being a senile old man. A couple of times he just kinda stopped talking and forgot where he was. One of the people he brought basically had the job of keeping him on track and had to cut him off a few times because he kept rambling off-topic. Really sad to see such an impressive man reduced to that.
Went to a Comic Con and the dude who played Spike from Buffy The Vampire Slayer got absolutely slated by everyone there, including guest celebs, as he was charging his fans £20 for what was meant to be a free talk (He was the only guest there who did this) and then charged £50 for autographs…
By comparison, Paul Freeman who played the Raiders of The Lost Ark villain; Belloq, was there and he only charged £5 for an autograph and all his earnings went to his and his wife’s charity for building schools in Africa, which I gladly paid for.
I went to a comic con and both Thor and Loki were there. I got a photo op with each individually and one together. When it came to Chris Hemsworth, you could tell he was tired possibly from jetlag but he was trying, interacting with everyone, giving hugs and doing fun poses.
Then came the group photo with both and as we went to enter the booth, we all personally got warned – no touching, no hugging, no kissing, no handshakes. I was confused as to why handshakes are not allowed. I thought maybe because the line was so long they wanted to rush through it.
Then came the solo photo with Tom Hiddleston who got given the same warning. His line wasn’t busy because they capped the ticket limit, so it was annoying to have spent $400 to meet someone for 12 seconds and not even being allowed to give a handshake or say hi. Chris Hemsworth was only $80 and he was def value for money.
My mum worked for one of the UK’s leading supermarkets in the 90s. They had Anthony Daniels (C3PO) booked and the guy lived up to his reputation.
Demanded a dressing room, (it’s a f*cking supermarket mate), refused to talk to the staff and refused to sign anything but the Star Wars Special Editions as people bought them (they had been out for like a month so proper fans had already got them). My Brother (8) who was a massive fan (and already had the tapes) was first refused a signature and only got one when one of the managers had a word in private with ‘3PO.
Basically, I now cheer whenever that tinman c*nt gets set upon in Empire.
Not my hero but my mom’s hero. Mom is in love with Bon Jovi. She bumped into him (literally) in public a few years back and said “Oh, I’m so sorry.” before realizing who he even was and his response was “You should be.”
Like, what man? An old lady bumps into you accidentally and that is your response??
Did not change her love for him but it sure made me sour. I’ve heard other stories of him being generally a d*ckhead since but that is my favorite.
Another for him:
A friend was working in a position where he saw the guy often, a few times a week or so. At the end of every interaction, my friend would say “Have a nice day.” as he said to literally everyone on parting with them like, you know, most people in positions like that. Jovi got more and more sour every time he sees my friend. It took him months to realize the guy actually thought he was mocking him, because of that stupid song/album he put out of the same name.
Used to work at comic con in San Diego.
Was a huge Jonah Hill fan at the time. Saw him come down the elevator in the back with his publicist and I held the door open for him.
He didn’t even acknowledge me or say thank you and was b*tching the whole time about the newest iPhone being a “piece of sh*t” (the newest one that wasn’t even released yet for the rest of us peasants).
Just came across as a huge douche. I was crushed.
Later saw him yell at a little kid who asked for his autograph. Told him to get lost he was too busy. Remember this is literally a place where you’re supposed to meet and greet fans.
My aunt sat next to Robert Downey jr in first class many years ago. This was during his mess phase before Iron Man when he was doing tv because he couldn’t get movies. Soon as she sat down he leaned over and said, “I bet you want my autograph.” She hasn’t seen any of his movies since then because she thinks he’s an arrogant d*ck. Which, to be fair, is now sort of his whole appeal.
Oh yeah, one more. In the ’90s, I worked in a rock club that did a lot of “has-been” shows, guys who were in big bands at one time. We had Peter Criss from Kiss at our place (One of the biggest shows ever) and my best friend went apesh*t since Peter was his favorite drummer of all time.
So Peter shows up for the show and he’s just miserable and unhappy and it wound up bringing the whole backstage vibe down to a sh*tty level. Once he got onstage he was all right, but the pall had been cast. So my friend was bending over backwards for Peter to help him out and Peter kept sending him on these weird errands (I was working front of the house, so had no idea this was going on) and my friend didn’t tell me till like a week later that they (Peter and his band) were goofing on him and being a**holes, all because he was this rabid fan. That was a sh*tty thing to do.
I hate this story because most people don’t believe me and/or it crushes their dreams and I also get rekt in it and it’s not even funny enough for me to tell it all the time. But I love that I get to add in and have found people that also dislike Bill Nye.
So, he gave an entertainment/climate change talk at my university and had a Q&A afterwards. I waited patiently and was near the end, but not the absolute last.
Rehearsed my question a bunch, get up to the microphone and I ask a pretty basic question. Worded poorly because I was a freshman at the time and hadn’t started to get my eventual BS in Chemistry, but I said something to the effect of,
“We currently have regenerative braking in vehicles, do you think that we could expand that technology to capture more spent energy and use that to power other parts of the car and reduce fuel use because of that?”
My thinking was an expansion of the regenerative braking idea to power a battery and then hey, less fuel use because there’s already electricity. Maybe not great, likely with some flaws in logic and understanding, but on topic and not absolutely retarded. Gotta know something to get there, is my point.
So, he takes this long, deep breath and sighs and goes into this ridiculous wind-up story about scientists in a bar combined with some anecdotes on how he has to answer dumb-a** questions all the f*cking time and that while the questions are normally bad when the asker doesn’t even know the third law of thermodynamics he just completely gives up and ignores them.
So there I was, standing on the side of the auditorium as a freshman in my university, nerd friends in the center row and most of the audience still there, while I’ve just had the biggest celebrity smackdown laid on me ever, combined with his full amount of “street cred” as a smart guy and celebrity and my nonexistence to most people in the audience. And it’s an auditorium, he’s on stage, so obviously the natural thing for everyone, including my friends, is to crack up – the stage man just did a slam dunk, time for the cheer. I’ve never felt so small.
I nearly didn’t get my Chemistry BS because a fun science hero told me I was f*cking imbecile and not worth even explaining why my question was ludicrously wrong in front of two to three hundred people and all my friends I had made in this, the first semester.
So it’s cool, every time that Nye comes up, most people are like “Oh yeah, fun science show, cool wacky fun, nifty experiments, I loved doing those in class and it got me excited about science! etc etc” and I normally don’t ruin their fun and just think about what a f*cking bully he was for thinking I was talking about a perpetual motion machine rather than a percentage recapture of energy lost due to friction via stop.
I’m a wrestling fan in Japan, and my favorite bad guy here is Minoru Suzuki. He’s angry, respects no one, and doesn’t pull his punches. He recently won a tournament, and he immediately smashed the trophy and ripped up the big check. Just an all-around a**hole.
Anyway, I ran into him in public a few months ago. Nicest guy in the world! Took pictures and signed autographs for free, was asking me all kinds of questions, was just generally interested in me, and was super excited I came to his shows.
Such a great guy! But now I can’t take him seriously in the ring anymore.
I never knew my dad growing up. My mom was always telling me how when I was young he had to leave to go work for Secret Service and was an undercover agent dealing with international affairs. I always thought he was this great person who was doing big important things for the country that all went unnoticed by the general populous. My dad. The big unrecognized hero.
Jump forward several years to me graduating high school. He was there, I was so happy to finally talk to him and hear stories about all the top-secret spy sh*t he was doing. Turns out he was just a deadbeat drunk who just left us when I was a baby.
I guess the real hero was my mom.
So my friend was obsessed with Nick Carter (of backstreet boys fame… I think that was his name. The blond one). She was a bit older than his usual crowd I guess.
So she drags me to a concert of theirs. She somehow managed to get backstage passes. So we watch the show. Whatever, I sang along and danced. I’m not gonna deny it.
So the show ends and we go backstage. we meet the boys. When it’s winding down, Nick invited her to their hotel room. Obviously, bring a guy (and not wanting to go anyway), I’m not invited and go home. She assures me she wants to go and will be fine.
I get a call the next morning from her that was horrible and that he basically only invited girls over…
Seriously? How did you not assume that from the start?
Anyway, she said she witnessed more than one girl. I laughed.
I don’t think she ever listened to BSB ever again.
My best friend’s mom was who I wanted to grow up to be as soon as I met her; she was independent, artistic, and competent. She did home improvement/carpentry/roofing, painting, and sculpture. She was open-minded, and welcoming. She exuded confidence and creativity.
They moved away suddenly, I lost touch with my friend, and she fell into memory as an adult who had a significant positive influence on my life during a turbulent time.
15 years later, I found her on Facebook; she was still an artist, and now lived on the other side of the country. I reached out on a whim, just to say I was thankful for her influence, and how much I looked up to her as an artist, especially since I had gone into painting and graphic design myself.
Her response was to let me know that she was looking for an apprentice to help in her shop and work on big projects with her and that after seeing my work she thought I would be a great fit. We chatted for a couple of months, and I dropped my life to come to work with her.
From day one it was tense and strange. Small comments and jokes she made slowly turned into a reveal of her beliefs and ideology. By day three she was out about her beliefs that not only are there three types of aliens visiting earth, but they talk to her in her dreams; that her dead mother has been her psychic companion since 1999 and whispers to her spiritual insight on people around her; that all illness can be treated with essential oils and colloidal silver; that the arch Angel Gabriel watches over her, and so on.
I’ve known some very ‘out there’ people, and believe some odd things myself, but her absolute certainty allowed no discussion.
When it came out in conversation that I had been s*xually abused as a child, her response was that my (reincarnated) soul obviously had something to learn from the experience, and that was why I had chosen my parents and opted to be abused before I was born.
When I expressed concerns that her business plans were not as sincere or thought out as our conversations over the summer had led me to believe, she assured me that the psychics she had consulted before my arrival had foreseen great success and profit.
She asked if I believed in souls, and took my response (that I don’t) as a personal attack, launching into an hour-long lecture on the time she had a dream about a woman’s name, and weeks later the name turned out to be a dead relative’s friend, therefore souls and telepathy.
She made a lot of snap judgements, secret tests of my character that she’d lecture me on for failing (such as choosing to watch “I am Legend” when she told me to pick whatever I wanted. This choice proved I was an inconsiderate monster with morbid tastes for violence).
I stayed as calm and diplomatic as I could during my (very short) stay, but it got increasingly difficult as she became more and more hostile. It was obvious that my skills as an artist were greatly advanced over hers, and it was awkwardly transparent as she sought random reasons to criticize me.
She blamed my dark energy for making her physically ill for a day. She called me masculine for casually getting along with men (who are in her opinion impossible to work with because they make everything about sex) and said we were having trouble getting along because I didn’t respect my mother.
The whole experience was a letdown. I learned a lot of lessons about vetting potential business partners and would have regretted/what-if’d it for the rest of my life if I hadn’t gone, but learning that my childhood idol is a hypocritical new-age equivalent of a fundamentalist with little to no sense of logic was painful.
I was a tiny boy and my parents took me to this WB panel at Bailey’s Hotel(I think it was in Las Vegas in the early 90s), where all the big stars were, including my ultimate favorite, Jim Carrey. I was so beyond excited to see him. On the panel, he was hilarious as expected. Then I was told that all the stars would exit through the red carpet, where we would have a chance to get an autograph. My parents knew how excited I was to meet my hero, and brought me to the red carpet route and we waited as all the stars started to exit the stage.
I remember Arnold Schwarzenegger came by, stopped, shook my hand, and signed one of my parent’s pictures. He was definitely one of the most friendly actors that passed by. More and more stars came by, but I didn’t care, I was waiting for my muse… my flame, my Ace Ventura!
Whoopie Goldberg walked by and was incredibly friendly. As she was shaking hands her assistant asked if we wanted to go backstage and meet Whoopie. “No thank you! I’m waiting for Jim Carrey!” Whoopie and the assistant laughed and continued walking the route(sorry Whoopie, I regret that decision now). Then… the moment I have dreamed of. I saw Jim Carrey coming down from the stage and right toward me. I was shaking with excitement, I stepped out on the red carpet, raised my little hands up, holding the sheet of paper. “Mr Carrey can I have an aut-” Jim Carrey hastily shoved me out of the way and began screaming “Get these people away from me!!!” and sped through the red carpet and out the door.
From that point on, I lost a hero. Every time a movie of his comes out, I flashback to that day and remember how that man broke my little child’s heart. I still see the movies because dammit, I still like his movies, but I hold a deep resentment toward that man.
I got to meet Terrance Roberts, one of the Little Rock Nine. The Little Rock Nine were a boundary-shattering group of black students to integrate into an all-white high school. I was so excited to meet him, a literal living legend!
He gave a speech about his experience and opened up questions. I raised my hand, eager to ask about what he had witnessed. When he called on me, I began, “Um—“
He immediately cut me off. In a condescending, snarky tone, he asked, “I’m just wondering. Why did you open with such a disgusting, guttural sound?”
I was stunned. No, he didn’t insult me too heavily or threaten me or the like. But to have a hero mock my speech in front of 30 of my peers was eye-opening, to say the least. I passed on the opportunity to get a picture with him 🙁
Hugh Jackman.
I visited Paris 5 years ago and I loved walking around looking at all the scenery, but I noticed a library right on the corner and I was feeling like I needed a rest so I just walked right in. I sat down a couple of seats over from a really heavy hooded guy, couldn’t really see much of his hair or anything and wore shades indoors. I didn’t think much considering that homeless people are everywhere in Paris so I just didn’t bother him.
I go about my business there but soon the man pulls out his phone and is talking, quietly because we were in a library but you could tell his distinct voice nonetheless. He sounded just like a certain actor, and it occurred to me that this was likely just a coincidence. He gets off the phone and I notice that he looks the exact same as Hugh Jackman.
I feel all giddy from having the chance of maybe seeing my favorite actor so I excitedly speak out everywhere, “Hey are you Hugh Jackman? I’m such a big fan.” Big mistake. All of a sudden he gets up with all his jackets and whatever and briskly walks out. At this point, I thought he was an a**, but then I notice the paparazzi that just showed up what seemed like out of nowhere outside and started following right after him.
And that is the story of how I ruined Hugh Jackman’s day.
Not me, but my 4 yo daughter. She loves mailmen, she insists that she really wants to be one when she grows up, she’s even planning to be a mailman for Halloween. She stops every mailman she sees to shower them with questions, and most have been kind and patient with this weird kid stopping them to ask questions.
Until two days ago, when one told her to go away. She’s been deflated for the whole two days.
A former pastor.
He was everyone’s favorite and was always the center of attention. Great speaker and seemed all-around compassionate for his people.
I looked up to him and thought he was an all-around decent being.
I ended up getting involved in ministry and discovered this guy is more than likely an actual psychopath. The signs are all there – just everyone ignores them. Things ended up getting toxic and I honestly wish I could have seen him as the old pastor. Not the secretly scary manipulative person underneath. (Was told by others it was my own fault for getting hurt by his toxic behavior and that I shouldn’t put someone on a pedestal….)
Tried a new church years later and the new pastor admits some days he just doesn’t want to come in – and he struggles with his own issues. I respect him for keeping it real.
The woman next door to me, growing up, was like my third Grandma. She was very sweet, liked my sister and me a lot, and had nice animals.
Well, she moved away and I lost track of her, until two years ago, when I found out she was only 10 minutes away. So I went to see her.
She recognized me and was very happy to see me. She asked how my sister was doing, so that’s how I know she knew I was me, even though she kept calling me by the wrong name. She told the same few stories over and over again. This stuff I was willing to let go because she was really old. But the stuff that kinda pushed it over the edge for me:
She went on an anti-atheist rant out of nowhere, implying Christianity was the only viable religion. (It was that sort of tone, like “she turned her back on God and I don’t know why” deal.)
She had two of the pets from when I was a kid, still, but one of them… if the dog wasn’t clearly breathing I would have assumed he was already dead. His eyes were red, and he looked absolutely miserable.
She had at least twenty cats outside. One of them hopped in my car and I desperately wished I could have taken that sweetie home.
I got home and admitted to my father I didn’t like her very much now, and he told me about how he helped clear her house after she moved out… including the literal tanks of vodka she had hiding around the house. He also had to move her pets to her new place, because she let them stay there without her for a few weeks.
H.R. Giger
I can’t draw to save my life, and I absolutely LOVED Giger’s aesthetic, so the guy was basically a god to me. I became pen-pals with him when I was 13 for a school project, and we ended up writing back and forth a dozen or so times per year for the next six years. He seemed like a super cool guy – at the age of 19, I used a good part of my life savings to spend a summer in Europe. During my first week there I get an email from Giger saying he wants to do lunch, so we arrange to meet.
I travelled two hours to meet him in Zurich. I have with me the ACTUAL face hugger from the movie Alien – my prized possession – which H.R. was totally thrilled about signing when I ran the idea by him. I get to the cafe a bit early and settle in, and a few minutes later Giger comes walking up. I stand and greet him. He’s cordial and acknowledges me, but seems distracted by looking around. He promptly excuses himself and sits at another table. The godd*mn alien puppet is sitting in clear view ON MY TABLE and I’m just wondering WTF.
I go over to his table and introduce myself. He looks up a bit startled and mentions that he thought when we were writing that I was a girl (looking back, in six years I never mentioned anything obviously gender-definitive and I have “one of those names”). I sit down and we talk for a bit but it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable; when I get around to asking him for his autograph he insists he’s too busy, then leaves the cafe in a hurry.
So yeah, pretty sure one of my heroes blew me off because he was a big creep and I wasn’t a woman. The rest of the summer that year was kind of a downer and seems to mark the point in time where I became a bit socially withdrawn as a person. I was over my fanboyism by the time I returned to the States and got rid of all my Alien franchise memorabilia as well as my collection of Giger’s art.