(Partly regrettable, perhaps).
One day I was walking the streets of New Haven when someone approached me who I thought I was supposed to recognize.
“Hi! I’m Seth Rogen” he said. “Want to go to California and ride a motorcycle? I’ll bring you right back!”
“Well, okay, if that’s all it is, as long as I understand what you mean.” I said. “You mean, innocent as milk, I go to California and ride a motorcycle with no additional obligations, and you bring me right back?” I said.
“That’s right!” he said.
“Okay, I’ll do it. Although I might regret it” I said. This was a period in my life when absolutely nothing was going on. I had some art projects, and occasional philosophical leanings. But I didn’t talk to anybody, and my mother didn’t always notice if I went missing for a few days. At least, that’s what I thought.
So, I was in a car, and then we went into a private airplane.
“You can sleep if you want” he said.
We touched down somewhere in what I thought was California, but which according to the video link I posted later, may have been Portland, Oregon.
“I don’t want a motorcycle, I want more like a motorbike” I said.
“Well, that’s what it is. But you don’t get to keep it” he said.
We drove very fast in the car. We weren't there yet.
Then we were in what looked like an abandoned lot. There was a motorcycle.
“Well, here we are! Let’s shoot!” he said.
“Get on the bike” he said.
“I don’t even know how to ride one” I said.
“Well, why didn’t you say so!” he said. “The hand-levers are for acceleration. And you turn the bar to steer. You can use your feet to stop. Try going around that little circle over there”
“Okay, when you’re ready.” I said.
“Anytime. Go, now!” I dimly recognized one of Seth’s friends smiling in a condescending way on the sidelines.
I accelerated as lightly as I could, and went in a short loop. The noise of the motorcycle prevented me from hearing whatever they were saying. But I could sense the same innocent-as-hell attitude they had been playing the whole time.
I had already realized, fortunately, that I needed to reduce acceleration way ahead of the stopping point. So, with difficulty, after I had completed the loop, I came to a stop, some distance down the road.
When I got back, Seth greeted me by saying “Good job!”
“Do I get food?” I said.
“You get a sandwich and this Orangina!” he said.
“Thanks.” I said.
I ate the sandwich like it was the answer to life.
“Now we’re going back” said Seth Rogen.
“That fast?” I said.
“Yeah!” he said. “Get in the car.”
I felt a sense of exhileration as the car accelerated abruptly.
Then we were on a plane.
"Now you've ridden a motorcycle in California. What do I get in return?" Seth Rogen said.
"Nothing I said. I don't like motorcycles."
"That's too bad! You should have told me..." he said.
"Unless you want rights to my biography" I said.
He seemed not to notice that statement.
“I’m not gay” I said.
“Well, that’s ironic. I’m not gay” he said. “But I was hoping to get a confession out of you…”
“I’m not gay, not even a little bit” I said.
“Well, I must say, that’s very ironic” he said.
About that time the plane touched down. Soon I was back home.
Needless to say, my mother never believed this story, although the video of me riding the motorcycle is now available on Youtube HERE (or at least something similar. And maybe it wasn't Seth Rogen after all).
OTHER STORIES:
The Story of How I Was Offered a Time-Cube
Real Life Encounter With the Philosopher Colin McGinn
My 5 Seconds with Warren G. Buffett
Abducted by John M and His Father
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