I was hungry last night, but there was nothing in the fridge. So, I walked over to the finest establishment in my neighborhood, IHOP, and ordered French toast (I was feeling wild).
I suddenly realized that I never showered after going to the gym, so I must have looked sweaty and grimy.
As I waited for my meal, a mother and daughter passed by as they went to pay their bill. The daughter, a cute twelve-year old girl, shyly looked my way. A few seconds passed after they passed me, and then they reappeared — standing right next to my table!
“Excuse me,” said the mother. “I really hope I’m not bothering you. But my daughter wants to ask you something.”
The little girl was nervous. The mother held the girl’s hand to calm her.
What was going on?
The only scenario I could come up with was that they were a rich Beverly Hills family, they thought I looked homeless, and they wanted to pay for my French toast.
“Go ahead, Jen,” said the mother. “Ask him.”
But the girl was frozen in fear. The mother decided to help her daughter out.
“My daughter wants to know if you’re an actor?”
“An actor?” I asked.
“Are you Kirk?” the girl blurted out, finally finding her voice.
“Kirk?” I said, confused. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not Kirk.”
“My daughter wants to know if you “play” Kirk,” the mother explained. “On “Gilmore Girls?”
“No, I’m sorry…”
I had no idea who “Kirk” was. I’ve never seen “Gilmore Girls,” although it just happens to be my mother’s favorite show and she’s always telling me to watch it.
The girl looked crushed. I was not “Kirk.”
If I had more time to think, or if I was just a little more quick-witted, I would have lied to the girl. It would have been worth it. I would have given her a story she would have remembered for the rest of her life.
“Imagine!” she would tell her grandchildren. ” I met Kirk at the IHOP on Wilshire Boulevard! He even signed a menu! Look — “Kirk.”
Hey, if I had met Lisa Bonet in a Chili’s Restaurant in 1980, I’d still be writing about it on my blog.
I tried to come up with something positive to say to the girl. I felt guilty about getting her all excited about meeting “Kirk,” then snapping her dream like a twig.
“You know…” I said with a gentle smile, “‘Gilmore Girls’ is my mother’s favorite show. She’ll appreciate that you thought I was Kirk.”
“You hear that, Jen?” said the mother. “His mother loves “Gilmore Girls” too!”
The girl shrugged, like she gave a rat’s ass.
I got home and decided to call my mother just to tell her the story. She laughed.
“That’s so cute,” she said.
But there was one unresolved matter.
“So, tell me, Mom, who the hell is ‘Kirk’?”
“Oh, he’s the town weirdo.”