on whether or not it's a good thing to meet your celebrity heroes.

Have you ever had the opportunity to meet one of your celebrity heroes? It can be exciting, but isn't necessarily a good thing.

I've never been one to be bowled over by fame, or to go gaga over a star. Stars are interesting people in that they lead what seems from the outside to be interesting lives, and I wouldn't mind spending a few minutes over a cup of coffee talking to a few of them. But sometimes, it's best not to meet someone you admire from afar based on their acting, or singing, or how well they play a musical instrument, or write. You might be disappointed by the actual human behind the image.
When I was in college I had a favorite author. I won't name her, because when I got to meet her it was a shocking disappointment. She did a book signing in my hometown of Dayton, Ohio, and I sat eagerly in the bookstore, avidly awaiting the moment I'd lay eyes on the woman who had provided me with endless hours of reading enjoyment. I imagined what she would be like based on the wonderful characters she created. How could she be anything but wonderful herself? I was about 20, and naive. The writer entered the room, and I was thrilled. I had her new book, which I planned to have her sign. She stepped up to the microphone to address the small crowd -- and proceeded to complain for 10 minutes about her flight, her hotel room, the traffic, in short, everything. I thought it a bit rude, but decided maybe she was just tired, and got in line to have her autograph my precious book.
When my turn came, I probably gushed a bit about how many hours of enjoyment she'd provided me with, and how I enjoyed the world and characters she'd created. Instead of the instant connection I'd been dreaming of, she basically grunted, "Yeah, what's your name?" She signed the book, which I still have, and moved on to the next fan.

 Thud. Clunk. Off the pedestal she fell. And that was the end of hero worship for me. I decided then and there I'd rather know as little about the actors and writers I admired as possible, in case they all turned out to be jerks.
Years passed. I was married, and working at Channel 6 in Columbus. My job was to point a camera at the news and weather anchors, and sometimes to set up the television programs and commercial carts. Occasionally I met a celebrity. I met Jack Hannah back before he was Jungle Jack. I met Dave and Wendy from the restaurant chain. She really did have red hair, but didn't wear it in those braids. I was in an adjoining bathroom stall with Mariette Hartley. They were all perfectly pleasant, and polite to me in my role as crew.
But one incident stands out from the rest, and it didn't happen at work. Jim Neighbors was in town, and was supposed to sing a concert with Patsy Cline. He was booked onto the noon news show at Channel 6, and I was looking forward to meeting him because I'd always enjoyed Gomer Pyle as a kid. Just before the show, however, we received word that he'd cancelled the show and the concert because he was suffering from a light case of laryngitis.

Oh, well.
That night I met my new husband downtown at Grant Medical Center, where he was doing a medical school rotation. We were going out on one of our very rare dinner dates. Rare because medical students have no time, and because we had little money. I think it was our anniversary. We decided to go over to German Village, to Max & Erma's. He dropped me off, and went to park. The street was virtually deserted. I stood in front of the restaurant, waiting. As I did, I noticed a lone man walking down the sidewalk toward me. As he drew near, I realized it was Jim Neighbors.
Being the imp then I still am now, I stuck out my hand and introduced myself, then told him I worked at Channel 6, and asked him why he hadn't showed up at the noon news show that day.
Well, the poor guy was terribly embarrassed, and said his agent was supposed to cancel for him.
I felt bad for teasing him! At that point, my husband walked up, and I introduced the two men (yeah, I did, as if I KNEW Jim Neighbors) and then told Mr. Neighbors that I was kidding. His agent had cancelled, and I was just a camera operator. He, fortunately, had a good sense of humor about it. Then, realizing he was alone in a strange town, I invited him to join us for dinner. He graciously accepted, and we went in. The next hour and a half was such fun! People came up and asked him for autographs, and he was as nice as could be to them. He entertained us with stories about other celebrities of whom we'd heard, such as Lonnie Anderson and Burt Reynolds. Once someone looked at us and asked us if we were "anybody!"
Then he insisted on paying for our dinner, and invited us to visit him on his macadamia plantation in Hawaii. We never made it there.
I wonder what he'd do if I showed up there now?
So this goes to prove that, like anyone else, some celebs are nice people just like anybody else, while others are snarky curmudgeons, like the writer I so admired.
So, do you still want to meet your favorite celeb? Who is it? Have you met a favorite celeb? How did that go? I'd love to know!