Slow News Day II: The Wrath of Richard Simmons

Thanks to Pardon the Interruption, I just found out that it's Richard Simmons' birthday today, and since I had once a bizarre run-in with him -- and because this is the most boring day of the sports year -- I thought I'd share it here. Actually, I believe I've already written about this story back in the early days of this site, but because I think I just touched on it without much detail (and I lack the search function skills to find out if my memory is accurate), I'll take the risk of repeating myself. So, sorry if you've heard (read) this before:

The year was 1997, and I had just moved out to LA, hoping to make my way in the business they call "show". I moved out in late September (on Brian Johnson Day), but purposely avoided getting a job for the first month, so I could watch every agonizing inning of the Giants NLDS loss to the Marlins. When I finally did get a job, it was as a lowly assistant at a production company, Crash Films, which made ads and videos. These types of jobs usually allow you to wear shorts and a t-shirt, but after giving me the job, my bosses asked that I wear a dress shirt and tie. While this was somewhat of a hardship for me, there I was on my first day, dressed in my Sunday finest.

My first assignment of that Monday morning was to go to the nearby Vons supermarket to buy a bouquet of flowers for display in the office's lobby, which they shared with a photography studio next door. So I was quite the sight entering the office that day -- dapper in my pressed shirt, tie, and khakis, and holding a giant bouquet of beautiful flowers. So much the vision was I, in fact, that I caught the eye of a man standing at the entrance to the photo studio. He, too, was hard to miss, standing there in his tight red short shorts, skimpy tank top, and perfectly picked afro.

Now, you have to remember, I'd only been in LA a month, and still prone to being starstruck every time I saw anyone I recognized from film or TV ("Hey, weren't you Calderone's Henchman #3 in an episode of 'Miami Vice' in 1986? You were AWESOME!!!"). So I was still getting over my shock at seeing Richard Simmons standing 20 feet from me when he raced over, dropped to one knee and began to serenade me with a very emotional rendition of Steisand and Diamond's "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" at the top of his lungs.

Before long, every employee from both offices had filtered into the lobby to gawk at the spectacle. I tried to laugh it off as my face turned red, and even inched toward the door, trying to make a sly getaway. But that Richard Simmons is quite an agile fellow (must be all that sweating to the oldies), and he managed to block my way, while never leaving his one-kneed stance. And since Mr. Simmons unfortunately knew the whole song by heart, I had to just grin, wait him out, and pretend like I wasn't in a living hell. As Richard finished his song with trademark flair, the place exploded with laughter and applause -- a standing ovation that seemed to last forever.

Needless to say, because of this incident, I was a laughingstock in that office for weeks. And that only ended when I provided more ammunition for mocking by getting torn a new one by former Whitesnake frontman David Coverdale, leading to enough Tawny Kittaen jokes to last me several lifetimes. But that's a story for another slow news day.