Yep. I met Conan O'Brien. It started as a typical Saturday with me waking up at 3 A.M. and doing three straight hours of news and a few news cut-ins until 10A.M. I decided to hang out an extra few hours after work because Ernie said three words: "Conan is coming."After a few hours and a lunch, he and his entourage consisting of random suits, his show's executive producer and his show's head writer entered the studio. Conan emerged through his posse and proceeded to go around the room and shake everyone's hand. He asked for names, too.
He was built like a marionette with his torso making up 60% of his body, his head 20%, and his limbs at a meager 5% a piece. While we are the same height (6'4") he towered over me due to an additional 2" from his mighty coiffed hair. He dwarfed everyone in the room while looking like a stretched out elf.
Like with everyone, he approached me and reached out his hand.
"Hi. Conan O'Brien."
I don't get star struck very much, but at the time all I could do was extend my hand and say, "Erik Barnes." Dammit. Just... dammit.
He sat down and was interviewed by our head anchor, Jim Payne, for almost 20 minutes. I sat down, legs crossed next to the camera and watched. I felt like a little kid listening to his grandfather tell tales. "Papa Conan, tell me a story!"
He then shot a few promos, plugging our station and reminding viewers that he's the new Tonight Show host.
It was picture time. A line formed with a mess of people wanting a photo with the Innovator of the String Dance.
"Mr. O'Brien, do you have time for another photo?"
"Pfft. 'Mr. O'brien.' Come here."
Then one of my fears came to light. As we posed for the photo above, a random crew member said, "This guy here is a stand-up comic." Ugh. Great. I'm tired and I don't have my "A" game.
Conan turned and looked at me.
"Really?"
"Well, I do a few shows here and there and I mostly work for beer."
"At this point, we are all working for beer."
We both smiled and I let the next person through. Pictures were finished. Then came the alligators.
We went outside where some gators from the nearby Gatorland were waiting. The two gator wranglers traveled in a large white van. The kind of van that a mustached kidnapper would have. One of the gator wranglers gave Conan a couple baby gators to hold. Conan was fine with it. Then the wranglers put the babies away and took out a three year old gator, which was around the size of border collie. He gave the gator to Conan. Conan announced to the crowd that he wet his pants. The gator wrangler took the gator away and then the van drove off, revealing a seven foot long gator from behind.
This was a big gator. The absent gator wrangler was apparently restraining the gator by sitting on its back and holding its jaw closed with his bare hands. This man must have trouble buying pants due to the size of his balls. The two gator wranglers asked Conan if he wanted to pet and wrestle the alligator. "I'm fine here," stated the man responsible for the career of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog.
The shooting was over and Conan was being corralled toward the big van that brought him here. Oddly enough, it was parked next to my car. He thanked everyone for helping and coming by. I took the opportunity to shake his hand again.
"Thanks for coming. Hopefully, I'll be good enough to perform on your show someday."
"At this point, you are already halfway there."
That was cool. He was probably just being a nice guy, but still. It's cool to be motivated by one of your inspirations. He got in the van and began to drove off.
Before I departed, I thanked my boss for allowing me to stick around. He said he was glad I could stay.
"Maybe you'll take over as host eventually."
"Let's not get crazy now. There is a difference between dreams and delusions."
However, being a talk show host seems like a cool gig. Hmm...
So to recap, I met my Pro Wrestling God in Ric Flair and I met my Comedy God in Conan O'Brien. Now all I need to do is meet Batman and I'll have gazed upon the faces of my personal Triad of Pop Culture Deities.
