Thursday, September 2, 2010

the fonz

Vix and I got to meet the Fonz...yes...THE FONZ...in person.  It was a fluke, but one of those weird things that happen in a moment of serendipity.

It was a time when I was travel nursing in California.  I won't go into the reasons I ended up doing assignments in California, but let's just say I was in the right place at the right time in my life.  Vicky was at a time in her life of great personal stress, and it was fortunate for us both I was out there, because we needed each other.

It was a day in late winter when I was returning my rental car prior to going home for a while.  We were at the airport in Sacramento, and I had gone to turn the car in and was waiting in line.  Vix was out in her car waiting for me.  I have always been a people watcher, so as I am standing in line I am looking around.  The place is nearly empty, and I notice a young man ahead of me in line making arrangements for a car.  He turns around to talk to a man standing back a bit and I look at the man and think to myself "gee he looks familiar".  I look around at other people but there weren't many to look at, so I swing back to look at Mr. Familiar again and while I am looking at him trying to figure it out, he smiles at me.  I am a grinner by nature so I smile back.  Then I get called to another agent and go finish my business.  As I start to leave I look at Mr F one more time and he smiles at me again, I smile, and then walk past him.  As I get outside the door it hits me....

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!! That was the Fonz!!!!!  I think wow what luck and walk back to Vix's car and climb in.  Our conversation went like this:

Me: Guess who I just saw inside.

Vix: Who?

Me: The Fonz.

Vix: No you didn't you are lying.

Me: No I am not it was Henry Winkler.

Vix: No it wasn't how can you be sure it was?  I don't believe you.

Me: Yes it was Henry Winkler I know it was.

Vix: I don't believe you, I am going in to find out.

Me: You don't have to because there he is.

And I point at Henry Winkler coming out of the car terminal.  Vix drops her mouth open and says "holy shit" (we are sisters after all and tend to think and have the same reactions) and screams "IT IS HIM!!!"

Now at this point Mr F is walking right toward Vix's car....as he draws near to walk by, I holler out "HI FONZ!!!" and of course he hears me because she has the sunroof open a bit....

And he stops....right by her window, which she had rapidly rolled down when she saw he was slowing down.  He bends over, looks in and the conversation goes something like this:

Me: I knew that was you!

Mr F: Looking good girls......

Me: So are you....

Mr F: nice ride......

Me: Thanks....

Mr F: well you girls have a great day....

Me: You too!.....

Now if you know Vix, and I say this with love in my heart, she is NEVER at a loss for words.  She can keep a conversation going and only stop to suck wind every once in a while.  I have always been the stand back and listen one...

Except this time.  When Henry Winkler bent down to talk to us, he was inches from Vix's face.  About 2 inches to be exact.  She said afterward if she had leaned over just a tad, she could have licked him.  And the whole time I am talking to him, she is sitting there with her mouth hanging open and a shit eating grin on her face.  What I don't know at the time is Mum is talking to her in her earpiece (she had called Mum on her cell phone while she was waiting for me) and hollering in her ear "who is it??? what's going on????".  So Vix was on overload.

And Fonz walked out of our life just like he had walked in...and even though he isn't taller than a popcorn fart, he is a gorgeous man in person with bright eyes and has aged well... we were so stunned that after he was gone we just looked at each other....then realized.......

we didn't ask for a photo with him to prove it, or an autograph or anything....

oh well...Vix and I know we saw him....and talked to him...and so does the Fonz.

Me shocking Vix with this ranks right up there with the ice cream cone in the face....but that's another story.
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