I wrote this in a blog I had some years ago. I wouldn't do any of these things today, but back in the day I was a rascal, for sure.
- Flagged down a cab, piled in and ordered, “Headquarters! And step on it!”
- Walked into a diner, sat down next to a friend and said, “So, what’s a dame like you doing in a gin joint like this?”
- Stepped into an office lobby, paused, listened to the Musak, raised my hands up beside my head, snapped my fingers, danced a wiggly two-step and and shouted out, “Hey, Daddy-O! Dig that crazy jive!”
- Glanced out a window, gasped in horror, pointed and cried out “Them! Them!”
- When someone reached out to shake my hand, stumbled back in terror crying out, “Don’t shoot, Rocko!”
- Finished adjusting my face in the ladies room and muttered, “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up now.”
- Gone up to a security guard and commanded, “Gort! Klaatu barada nikto!”
- After a bell boy has loaded my bags into a cab, clutched his hand as I tipped him, looked deep into his eyes and whispered, “We’ll always have Paris.”
- Upon leaving a particularly successful interview, clicked my tongue, arched an eyebrow, jabbed a thumb in the air and said, “Print the legend!”
- Told the driver of an airport shuttle, “Open the pod bay door, HAL.”
- Spotted a flasher and yelled at him, "Fill your hand, you son of a bitch!"
- Observing my guy dead to the world after performing his masculine duties, smiled and said to myself, "It wasn't the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast."
