How I Disappointed My Favorite Pop Star
Do it to them before they can do it to you
I hate meeting celebrities
The problem with meeting a celebrity you like is that, if they’re a jerk, it can change your opinion of their work.
While working in the airline industry, I met my fair share of TV, movie, and music stars.
Jason Bateman’s agent once asked me for a free upgrade to Business Class for the actor, while Bateman stood far off to the side watching and waiting for the answer.
Weird, right?
Maybe there was more to the story. Maybe Bateman didn’t know his agent was doing that.
Nonetheless, I have been scarred.
Prior to that incident, I was a huge Jason Bateman fan. Afterward, not so much.
My rule of thumb is to avoid meeting my favorite celebrities.
A history of perverts and rapists
And if you think about it, recent history has shown us that the odds your favorite celebrity is a ‘good guy’ may actually be far less than that he is a pervert, rapist, or murderer.
Here is just a small sampling of disgraced superstars that immediately come to mind:
OJ Simpson — alleged murderer Bill Cosby —alleged rapist Michael Jackson — alleged pedophile Johnny Depp — an alleged wife beater Kevin Spacey — alleged sexual assaulter Mel Gibson — alleged sexist and racist Matt Lauer — the alleged sexual harasser Louis CK — alleged public masturbater
The use of the word ‘alleged’ will protect me from any lawsuits, am I right?
Anyway, the point is I would be far happier if I only knew that Bill Cosby liked Jello pudding and had a hit TV show. I don’t want to know the rest.
So imagine my dismay when I was one day faced with the burden of meeting my favorite pop star at the airport.
The Canadian Beatles
Blue Rodeo burst onto the music scene in the late 1980s, with a string of eclectic Top 10 hits.
Some folks compared the songwriting partnership of lead singers Jim Cuddy and Greg Keelor to that of the legendary Beatles Paul McCartney and John Lennon.
High praise.
And well deserved, in my opinion.
I adore Blue Rodeo, and I have for over 30 years, and yet I never once had any desire to meet the band.
But in May of 2002, I met Jim.
Full out fanboy
Hundreds of folks were lined up in front of me at Domestic check-in, waiting to get their boarding passes.
“I’ll take the next customer in line, please”
All of a sudden, Jim Cuddy was standing there, closer to me than the 6-foot distance that it takes to protect yourself from a novel coronavirus.
Uh, oh. I recognize this guy.
At first, I played it cool. I pretended not to know him.
He was with his young daughter, and they looked really happy.
“We have two tickets to Vancouver”, he said to me.
“I’m a big fan!”, I finally blurted out, completely against my better judgment.
“Oh that’s so nice to hear”, he said with a smile.
“Yeah, I followed your music all through university”, I blabbed.
“That’s great — which university?”, he asked.
“York”, I said, knowing that my answer would be a disappointment to him.
“Nice”, he replied.
The conversation was going well.
But then I looked down at my computer and found out some bad news:
His flight had been canceled.
If the flight is canceled, is Cuddy canceled too?
Well — Ok, here we go. I’d have to let him know his flight was canceled.
Then I would see the ugly side of Jim Cuddy.
And then I could never be able to think of his music in the same way.
“Uh, I have some bad news”, I said.
“Bad news?”, he repeated.
“Yeah, your flight is canceled”, I said reluctantly.
He stood up a bit straighter and said “Cancelled?! Oh no!”
After a minute of searching, I found a solution.
“Good news! There’s a flight leaving right now, and I can get you on it!”, I said happily.
“Excellent! Thank you so much!”, Jim replied.
More information came up on my computer.
“Oh geez, that flight is now delayed 2 hours”, I said.
“2 hours?! Oh no!”, he repeated.
I was putting Jim through an emotional roller coaster.
He paused and looked down at his daughter.
“Well, little girl, let’s go have some fun in the airport!”
He had taken the whole thing in stride.
A way to remember me
“Mr. Cuddy, could I get your autograph?”, I said.
“Absolutely!”, he replied graciously.
I printed out another copy of his boarding pass, and I flipped it over in front of him and handed him my pen. He asked me my name, scribbled something on the paper, and then handed me back my pen.
“It was nice to meet you”, he said and then he took his daughter away to wander through the terminal building.
He was a pure gentleman. And it was such a relief.
There was no need to throw out his music.
After he left, I looked down at the autograph.
It said: “Dear Keith, 2 hours?!! Jim”
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