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           I was in the midst of an intense workout at Gold’s Gym, Venice Beach, when the miraculous event happened.  I could not believe it.  The song “Tubthumper” was blaring over the loudspeakers, when all of a sudden, there he was -- Danny Hester, my bodybuilding idol, walked into the gym.  Everything just stopped for a second.  Until now, I have only seen him on television and magazines.  My pace came to a slow halt as he walked by me.  Quickly, I measured him up.  We were the same height.  Our proportions were different though.  I started walking again while turning and watching him.  I still could not believe it was him.  I continued my workout with slight less intensity glancing over once in a while.
     Eventually, it came time for me to leave.  I was also getting hungry and needed to get something to eat.  It did not feel right that I was just going to leave without saying something.  Maybe I could just go up to him and shake his hand.  I walked toward the exit, and made a quick right into the Gym store.  I asked the clerk if that was Danny Hester.  I knew it was, but I needed some confirmation as not to seem foolish if I were to walk up to this man.  The clerk confirmed.  I asked if he was a nice guy.  The clerk said he was slighty on the shy side.  I borrowed a marker and promised to bring it back.
     I went back into the gym to find him talking to a couple of people.  Feeling like a gangly teenager, I paced around him, with my weightlifting belt and marker in hand, in hopes that he would notice me and make some eye contact.  The feeling was like asking a strange girl to dance.  I felt like the dumb vulture in the old Bugs Bunny cartoons.  He did notice me somewhat.  He noticed some guy pacing back and forth behind him, not smiling, acting weird.  He turned his back slightly and continued talking.  Great, now I feel like a crazed stalker.  Wait-a-minute, at this very moment, I guess I am.  I decided to change that and took a deep breath and approached him.  He seemed slightly frightened.  “Are you Danny Hester?” I asked.
     “Yes,” he answered.
     “Hi, my name is Peter Knight.  I’m traveling from the East Coast and I just wanted to let you know that I really admire you.”  Why did I say it like that?  I feel so stupid.  He probably thinks I am gay or something.  I meant to say I admired his accomplishments.
     He smiled, “Thank you.  Thank you very much.”
     I breathed a sigh of relief, “I was wondering if, by any chance, if you could sign my belt.”  I handed him my belt and felt awkward again.  It was my old belt.  I brought along my old cheapie belt I bought from Sears years ago, and not my usual super-duper-steel-reinforced-doubly-stitched-by-small-children-in-some-third-
world-country-rejoicing-cheap-labor-belt.  It was my cheapie belt.
     “Sure.  It’ll be my pleasure,” he held the belt and flipped it about.  He smiled, “This is neat.”  I uncapped the pen for him and started signing, ‘To Peter, Stay mean, lean, and clean.  Danny Hester.’  He continued, “Hey.  Catch any of the sights around here?  Did you go up by the water and see the boardwalk?”
     We talked about Los Angeles.  We talked about Rochester.  He told me he has an ex-girlfriend who attended the University of Rochester for a Master’s Degree.  We stood there and talked for about ten minutes.  Niiiice.
 

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