I have a miraculous story to tell.
Yesterday my favorite filmmaker (and one of my biggest heroes) David Lynch tweeted that he’d be signing copies of his brand new album at a record store today in Hollywood. The big fan I am of his, I figured I’d be crazy not to go. The first 200 people there at 6 PM would get the album signed. Sweet.
I moved my work shift to 8 AM instead of 3 PM so I could go. I left at 2.30 so I could get there two hours early (plenty of time to be one of the first 200 people, right?). Wrong. I get to Hollywood two hours early and a lengthy line told me I was probably screwed. I go inside to learn I was, indeed, too late: they were out of tickets; I wouldn’t get anything signed by Mr. Lynch.
Crushed, I returned to my car and decided it would be worth it to wait two hours just for the chance to get a glimpse of the man (I’m a big fan of his, to say the least), and after about an hour in the car listening to his album I strolled back in the store to look around and buy some records. I bought David Lynch’s new album The Big Dream and Radiohead’s Kid A, both on vinyl. (This trip would not be for nought!)
I went back to my car to put my purchases away and then started walking back to the record store to wait for David. As I’m walking along, I noticed a green car that was half pulled in on the sidewalk. I walked past it and saw none other than … DAVID LYNCH!
I flipped. He was wearing his signature black sunglasses smoking a cigarette with the window down. I ran up to him and shook his hand, told him he was one of my biggest heroes, and asked if he’d mind taking a photo with me. He was so nice. I told him I didn’t have a ticket to get anything signed, and how lucky I was to see him. We took a picture, I thanked him for all his work ever, and we shook hands one last time.
It was a miracle. It made my year. He is the nicest man. Today was the best.
Thanks for reading. Learn something from this. Crazy miracles do happen.