Accidental Journey - Page 3

A few years later, I encounter the Hulk again (second time) at Close Encounters of the Safeway
Kind. Right here, in Boulder, CO. Well, if that don’t beat all! There you are, Lou, in the Sunday newspaper, looking good as ever and making a local appearance right here in town – "Come out and meet Lou (The Hulk) Ferrigno and sample his new nutritional snack bars – next Tuesday at the Boulder Safeway."

After work, on the day of this promotional event, my buddy, davidmack and I hop into my Dodge Dart Swinger (named Lou) and head over to the Safeway to meet the spirit of my car in person. Hey, big guy – I see you in the crowd signing autographs and looking massive as ever. Your bicep bursting body sits poised at the display table, surrounded by candy bars, body-building books and a couple of two-bit, polyester types hovering suspiciously behind, monitoring for crowd control, I think. Who are deez guys – Superfly hustlers trying to pay the rent with your name? Lou don’t need no bodyguards!

In my car, in my mind and in my words, Lou is bigger than life. That’s why I’m here today with the admiring public and children chasing autographs. Your persona, Lou, rides with me on the highways, like a modern Saint Christopher, protecting this wayward driver from another fender bender. Your presence inspires the quiet strength of imagination, which guards me daily, ever since that thread of conversation in a pizza parlour, on Halloween a few years ago. Whether he knows it or not, Lou occupies that place in me where the strength of imagination, the power of the creative will, tempers all that revolves around this crazy world in the chaos of my own mundane existence. And here you are now, in the supermarket, selling health food bars. Wow! In a flash, I intrude this promotional stunt to say, "Excuse me, Mr. Ferrigno, remember me? I used to make pizzas at the Wildflour."

Nervously, I pause, fearful he may have forgotten our meaningful encounter. The Polyester
Man casts a baleful look in my direction, about to disassemble my frame in a moment's notice.
Lou gazes up from his work, blinks an eye and says, "You mean Jay, Steve and his wife, uh …"

"Wendy," I say, prompting his memory at last.

"Yeah, I remember you. What are you doing here?" he asks as if he does not perceive the chrono-synclastic nature of this reunion.

"I live here, Lou. I’m married and live outside of town."

And now, in a flash, he understands.