I got to hear Coolio sing his classic love ballad “1-2-3-4, Get Your Woman on the Floor.” I got to shake hands with the rapper as he belted out his most famous song, “Gangsta’s Paradise.” I got to watch his hype man pour a bottle of Grey Goose vodka all over the girl who made us go in there in the first place. The rest of the night was something out of a dream.
It wasn’t until I read the poster above the urinal that I found out that we had stumbled across one of the most enigmatic performers in the history of hip hop music – Coolio. The guy on stage looked familiar, but we didn’t know who he was. There were about 30 to 40 semi-interested listeners in the audience. Finally obliging, because she wouldn’t let us do otherwise, we walked in to Diesel, only to find a rap concert going on. On our way out of the South Side after a night of poetry readings and Bible study, a member of our party insisted on going into one more club. But none of these coincidental meetings had the profound meaning for me than the one that happened last Thursday night. My best story is definitely paying $10 to see a comedy show on a random Monday in New York, only to have Chris Rock walk in and perform 45 minutes of stand-up. I once saw basketball legend Larry Bird at the airport but decided that running through security to get his autograph would probably get me shot. One of my very few redeemable talents, along with spelunking and the ability to cook my… One of my very few redeemable talents, along with spelunking and the ability to cook my world-renowned Pierogi Surprise, is my uncanny knack for running into famous people.