My Hollywood Moment With

Frank Stallone.

C2011 M.L. Zambrana

You cant live in Los Angeles and not have a moment with someone of a celebrity status. The entertainment industry is too pervasive. During my nine-plus years living in the area, I had a few run-ins with the big names which dont really matter for anything, but they made for some interesting moments. Like what? Getting on the elevator with the big guy from Lost. Standing behind the woman who plays the housekeeper on Two and a Half Men. Being on-set at Sunset Gower Studios for Chipmunks 2 and getting hit in the mouth by Jason Lee (purely an accident, maybe Ill explain that one later). Little encounters like that. ******* So how did I meet Frank Stallone? Through a bicycle ride--not mine, of course. God knows that I dont have the ambition to embark on athletic ventures. But back in October 2011, a Washington state woman named Devorah Gottesman began a ride for The Wounded Warrior Project, and decided to start it in Hollywood. The kick-off took place at the Hollywood American Legion on Highland Avenue, where she would be accompanied on the road by the Legion Riders for part of her journey. Along

with Devorah, a couple of celebrities had been arranged to appear that day as well. When Frank Stallone arrived, he took a seat in one of the chairs in the corner of the Atrium, just inside the doors that you see in the picture. He made a cell phone call, then he got up a few minutes later and started getting his guitar ready, just inside the doorway and off to one side. At the time, I happened to be on the third floor of the building, looking down from the balcony at the activity going on in the Atrium. My duty that day involved looking after the Museum for the 1929-constructed building, but nobody bothered coming up before the event to visit. So I simply spent the time staring down and watching the action as people arrived and set up for the event well, what little I could see of it, anyway. A few minutes after Frank left the chair, a woman sat down in the spot that hed vacated, shifted her position, and pulled out a motorcycle key that had been protruding from the side of the chair, in between the cushion and the arm. She gave it a curious look and set it aside, but I knew who it belonged to. I went to the corner of the building, trotted down the concrete steps, swept up the key and carried it over to Frank. Although tempted to tap him on the shoulder, I instead moved into his field of vision and held up the key, thick side up with the logo facing him. Sir? I think this is yours. He blinked and instinctively moved one hand towards his pocket, then reached out and took the key. Oh. Oh, thank you! I nodded and trotted off, back to the third floor. I couldnt enjoy the front view of his performance, but his music did echo back into the building and, hey, I didnt mind the view that I did get. And thats the first time (and last time) that I ever met Frank Stallone.

(Hey, relax, already. I said it was a moment, not a life-changing event. Geez.)