Brushes with greatness.

Mike Toole shares his probably-soon-to-be-infamous story about Tom Brokaw.

My own encounters with celebrity are even more peripheral:
--spotted Col. Harlan Sanders dining in a Red Lobster in Louisville when I was about 14. Said nothing.
--ended up walking behind Rick Monday at a Mets/Dodgers game at Shea in when Paula and I got lost looking for the bathroom. I don't remember saying anything, but Paula may have asked him where the exit was.
--was snubbed by Mike Piazza at Spring training at Vero Beach the year he got traded; he signed for Elaine (with my pen), skipped me, signed several more, and ducked into the clubhouse.
--was snubbed by Stevie Nicks at a concert I went to with Angela, handshakes right and left of me.
--once briefly stalked Richard Karn outside a movie theater in Louisville.
Suzanne: "Hey, that's Al from Tool Time.
Me: "Yeah, I think you're right."
Elaine and Loraine were in the back seat and didn't see him. We went in, saw whatever movie we were there for, and as we were getting back in the car Elaine and Loraine spotted him again in the parking lot.
Loraine: "Hey, that's Al from Tool Time."
Suzanne and I: "We know. We told you that earlier."
Elaine, slipping into double-naught spy mode: "Follow him."
So we did. Down Hurstbourne Lane a couple of blocks, when he copped to the fact that he was being followed by four chicks with glasses, panicked, and zipped into a closed car dealership, so we zipped in after him and pulled up beside him. I'm not sure what he thought we were going to do to him, but whatever it was he wanted no part of it; with a look of naked, screaming terror he slammed his rental into reverse and roared out of the lot.
Elaine: "Step on it. He's getting away!"
But I suddenly came to my senses and we let him get away. I've wondered for years whether he ever mentioned it to anyone.

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