Funny Story about Eric Clapton Sighting in Studio City

This is a little piece I wrote in May, 2009. I just found it while looking at backlogs of Facebook stories I had posted. Glad this little gem is still around, another true and delightful story. Enjoy!

Recently, I was at Dream Dinners assembling meals. I am embarrassed to admit I am a Dream Dinners customer. I thought I would give it a try for a couple months. In case you don't know, Dream Dinners is a place where you can order several uncooked meals a month that you prepare and dress up at home. Since I dislike food shopping and have run out of dinner-making ideas, I thought perhaps this might supplement my meal-making efforts. Rumor has it the dishes are quite tasty, but I will admit they are mediocre at best. Still this week, I found a couple good ones. I think it's hit or miss.

The usual clientele are housewives and busy executive women, so I was astounded to see a hip-looking guy with a tattoo listening to an iPod happily assembling his meals. I asked him what kind of music he preferred for such a mundane task. He said it varied, but that day it was rap. From there, a most delightful conversation began. We started discussing an excellent documentary I had just seen about the guitar player Les Paul and his amazing inventions of multi-tracking, sound on sound, and the Gibson solid body electric guitar which all set the foundation for rock-and-roll today. This hip-looking guy with a tattoo, who happened to be a school teacher, was reminded of his true-life sighting of another famous guitarist and told me this story.

One day he was sitting in Lulu's Beehive in Studio City grading papers. Lulu's Beehive is a very happening coffee house where local musicians frequent. While he was heavily concentrating on his work, a British man sat next to him and engaged him in conversation asking him what he was doing. The tattoo-bearing teacher responded that he was grading papers. From there the conversation turned from the perils of teaching to philosophy. He then asked the British man what he did for a living. He replied, "I'm a musician." The teacher had been so involved in his work, he didn't notice that this musician he was talking to was Eric Clapton. The teacher often went to Lulu's Beehive and met all kinds of musician and artists--usually unknowns trying to scrape up a career.

Next they began talking about music. Eric asked the teacher what musicians he liked. The teacher said Bob Marley and a variety of others. He was amazed that almost every one he named this musician had played with. Next, the teacher asked, "What instrument do you play?" There was an uncomfortably, long pause...and then Eric replied, "Guitar." The teacher responded, "Really?" and exclaimed how he always wanted to play guitar. He asked if there were any teachers Eric could recommend. (By this point in the story I was roaring in laughter.) Finally, the conversation came to a close. The musician asked the teacher his name, and then said, "My name is Eric," thanked him for the nice conversation, and left. The teacher casually went back to grading papers.

A few minutes later, a friend of his came up to him and said, "Dude, I didn't know you knew Eric Clapton!" The teacher was floored and his jaw dropped. He realized that odd pause during the conversation was Eric responding in disbelief to his question about which instrument he played. But instead of Eric being insulted and demanding to be recognized, he carried on the conversation with humility. Perhaps it was a relief that he could have a normal conversation with a stranger without the usual idol worship behavior. I wouldn't be surprised if Eric was chuckling to himself the rest of the day.

When I was done assembling my meals and leaving, I went up to the teacher and thanked him for the conversation. Already--he was engaged in another with a young woman I had spoken to earlier. I asked him if it was okay if I pass on his story, and he said, "By all means." As I was leaving, I told him to tell the story to the young woman. With enthusiasm he began, but already I could see he would not find the telling so satisfying this time around as I heard her reply in judgmental dismay, "WHAT? You didn't recognize Eric Clapton? How could you NOT recognize Eric Clapton?" The teacher looked at me regretful that he had even begun. I said, "But that's the beauty of the story...he didn't."