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It was the summer of 1992 and my friend, Patricia, had invited me over to her house to watch a movie.When I got there, I was disappointed to learn that the movie was Wayne’s World — the very flick I’d refused to see when it had come out the year before because it had seemed, to my eleven year-old eyes, ridiculous.
But, you know, we were at her house, so we were going to watch the movie she’d picked. I sat down on the couch, prepared to be bored out of my mind. And the rest, as they say, is history.
I loved Wayne’s World. I mean, I freaking loved it. Adore it still – more than words can say and trust me, I’ve tried. I can quote this grand classic of American cinema by heart. In fact, I try to have a Wayne’s World moment at least twice a day, much harder, I have to admit, when living in non-English speaking countries. (Fun fact: dubbed in Italian, Wayne’s World is called roughtly Fusi di Testa – stupid heads – and “I’ll have the cream of sum yun gai” is translated very unsatisfactorily.)
Wayne’s World kick started my love of Queen, my love of “Foxy,” my appreciation for jelly doughnuts, and my girl crush on Tia Carrere. Years ago, when I worked retail at a SoHo antique store, the woman herself came into the shop — all legs, black eyeliner, and tight suede pants. “You have lovely things,” she told me.
But this story isn’t about Cassandra. It’s about Mike Myers – Wayne Campbell himself. Wayne and me.
Fast forward to 2007. I’m living in Japan – teaching English and transcribing interviews for journalists on the side. Freelance transcription, of course, because I refused to bow to any sponsor. For nearly ten years, I’d been transcribing countless celebrity interviews, which are nowhere near as interesting as one might hope. But then, one day, in the fall of ’07, my premier client shot me the e-mail:
Hey, Eve. I’ve got an interview with Mike Myers tomorrow morning, your time. Can you do immediate turnaround?
Mike Myers?! Schwing! Party time! Excellent! Game on! Turn down an interview with Mike Myers? Sheah – and monkeys might fly out of my butt!
Nonetheless, a little stage fright.
“But Danny,” I told my client. “I’m not worthy.”
“Can you do the interview or not?” he asked.
So there I am on a morning before heading to school, waiting for the magical interview to land in my inbox, at the ready at my keyboard. And then it arrived. For that particular occasion – being interviewed for TV Guide – Mike was subdued: the comedian at rest while the man at work discussed the details of “Shrek: The Third” and his experiences doing improv in New York. Unseen, I soaked up every word.
My client, “Listen, as we wrap up, I want to tell you that the girl who’s transcribing this is a huge fan. In fact, when I told her she’d be transcribing an interview with you, she said, ‘I’m not worthy.'”
My fingers froze over the keyboard, and Mike Myers paused, too. And then he said: “Well, tell her she’s very worthy.”
And now I can die. It was nice knowing all of you.
P.S. Dana Carvey and Rob Lowe? You’re next.