Tony Curtis was riding in the elevator with me

Tony Curtis was riding in the elevator with me going up to the front office at Lorimar in Culver City. He was one of the stars on one of our hit soap operas on network television back in the eighties, He looked good. Hair was dyed really nicely, piled up in his signature fifties  style DA, classy black leather evening coat, and exquisitely hand sewn black calf  skin gloves to hide the age in his hands. He smiled at me and his body guard stood behind him, at ease. It was a calm moment as we climbed the stories silently. But then I remembered a story I had heard probably in Clearwater high school; one of the small town urban legends about Hollywood assholes. The rumor was that Tony Curtis, a huge silver screen star back then was a huge practical joker, and would enjoy going into a crowded elevator,… then he would fart, and then get off the elevator. I suddenly remembered this high school gossip and tensed up waiting for the fart. It was as if all my life experiences had prepared me for this moment. Fate had done a dance with my destiny all for the purpose of putting me in this elevator with this famous farter. Tony sensed a change in my attitude and so did his bodyguard. Tony looked up at me with a quizzical stare. I was frozen. I couldn’t say a word. I wanted to ask him if the rumor was true, but it would have been my job. He didn’t fart. We both got out on the same floor and went into different offices. Either we live our lives waiting for the famous people to fart, or we get on with own business. “History of the Groove, book 4” Russell Buddy Helm copyright 2014

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