I was supposed to meet Lou Ferrigno. But I didn’t. I was attending Toronto’s Fan Expo from August 23rd to 26th. My plan? To met Lou Ferrigno and challenge him to a fight on camera. Then to put the video of the fight on Break.com and HolyTaco and see how long before someone in the comments calls me gay. Because that is what commenters do.
I’m not foolish enough to believe I can just accost Lou Ferrigno on the street and jump him like an enraged monkey. The man runs a business selling liquid eggs in his spare time, I assume he’s made of pure protein and leftover Hulk rage from fan boys constantly asking him to say things like “Ferrigno smash!” He would probably just kick my ass up to and out of my mouth. I needed to arrange things.
I sent an email to the contact on Lou Ferrigno’s website 3 times and heard nothing back and, as the day of the event grew closer, I began to despair I’d never arrange anything so I had to swallow my social retardation and actually use the phone. Let me state here that you have no idea how much I hate talking on the phone. It’s ridiculous. If you need me for something, talk to my damn face. I hate phone calls. I hate talking to people I don’t know on the phone because if I don’t know you, why are we talking? Are we facilitating business? Then why isn’t email good enough, we’re both literate. I feel like everyone on the phone is judging me and not getting my jokes. Anyway.
I called Ferrigno and was prepared to leave a message because it seems logical to me that Lou is out throwing cars and shit all day long, he’s not answering the phone. But someone did answer. It was his wife, I think. I had that moment of “oh shit” awkward silence when you have to speak to someone you weren’t expecting to talk to. I stumbled over an introduction and why I needed to get in touch with Lou Ferrigno. After 5 minutes of solid rambling she said “Oh, that thing in Toronto? I don’t know his schedule but I can tell him you’ll be looking for him.” I shouldn’t have put that in quotation marks because that was totally paraphrased, but meh, I play fast and loose with punctuation?!
I was about s satisfied as I could be, Ferrigno knew I was coming, or he would be informed at any rate and we could hang out. Then, about 30 minutes later, I got an email, which I have screencapped.
All caps, all Ferrigno, all AOL. It was everything I could have hoped for.
The day came and after hitchhiking to Toronto and being forced to dance for a team of Canadian horse shoe players in the back of their cube van, I was set to meet Lou Ferrigno and fight him for the sake of internet comedy, internet comedy being the most noble of all comedies.
I saw a sign that bore Mr. Ferrigno’s name on the first day, only there was no Ferrigno present. Oh well, no big deal, other things to do as well. I paid $4 for a 500ml bottle of lemonade and set about taking pictures of women who were not fully dressed. It was a fine time.
On the next day I again saw the Ferrigno sign and yet no Ferrigno. Hmm. Oh well, two days left. On this day I paid $8 for a terribly dry pulled pork sandwich and marveled at something called a BBQ Parfait which was a bed of pulled pork, an ice cream scoop of mashed potatoes and a sprinkling of baked beans on top. Really? Baked beans at a con? That explains the smell. To a degree.
Day three and I heard tell that someone in my group had seen Ferrigno! I was on my way to meet him until a mouth breather in a yellow security shirt assured me my press credentials meant nothing and I had to line up like everyone else. No problem, I guess, where’s the line? It’s behind that one million people right over here who are trying to meet Gillian Anderson. Huh.
Two hours later I get to the head of the line. Ferrigno has left for lunch. SON OF A BITCH! I ask another yellow shirt where he went and literally get told it’s none of my business. What? It is my business. Legitimately, I have business with Lou Ferrigno. Don’t make me show you the email. Also, what are you being paid to be here, a bean parfait? Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone of voice.
Fun aside – I went out for a coffee at 11 that night and as I turned around, literally inches from my face and about 6 inches shorter than me was 90lb crackhead Dave Chapelle. He held out a wrinkled coffee cup and demanded my change. I pulled out $1.25 and a ring I wear from my pocket, gave him the change and put the ring back. He saw me slip something back and proceeded to say, about 20 times “Gimme all the change boss! C’mon big guy. C’mon big guy. Gimme all the change, boss!” I assured him I had none left and, as he attempted to reach into my pants to get more, I punched his skinny head. And he collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
I’m not bragging that I knocked out a tiny, skinny crackhead as I believe he was going to pass out on his own soon anyway, but it’s worth noting nonetheless. I knocked out a crackhead in a coffee shop. Then I left with my coffee because I couldn’t think of what else to do.
Last day at the con and guess who I finally meet? No one, because I still don’t know where Lou Ferrigno is. I didn’t even see him through a crowd. I saw pictures of him other people put online in a Facebook group, but no real deal. Who the shit was I going to fight now? I’ll tell you who – no one. No one at all.
I attempted to flirt with some Suicide Girls and pick up a chick dressed as Poison Ivy and that netted me angry stares and the label of “eew” but that was all. The trip was a bust. I had failed.
Lou Ferrigno, your email was false. False I say! False as your heart.
On the upside, I saw this at the con. You’re welcome.