An ode to Woody Allen and the time we met

I went to New York with a friend who had a conference for her stationary business. I heard that Woody Allen would be playing clarinet in his band at the Carslyle Hotel on E. 76th and Madison. Being one of Woody's biggest fans, I had to go.

I arrived early. I stood in the lobby outside the bar for an hour with 5 other people as we quietly looked at each others' shoes then began to openly discuss our excitement. The wait was unbearable. The door opened, only for us to discover that there was another door in which people entered. The place was flooded! I was literally the last person allowed in the cramped space. I took the only seat left at the bar, allowing a decent view, with a pillar as an obstruction. The space was only about the size of a 2bd. apt. The music reminded me of the Sacramento Jazz Festival. Woody seemed not to be convinced he was good enough.

Following the show, Woody was making his exit with the band. People crowded him, asking for his autograph, hovering like bees. He exited the building with his body guards saying "thank you, that's enough" . . .

Then I sat, distantly at the bar, looking at him walk out the doors thinking, "I came here for a reason". I waited a couple of minutes until the crowd died off. I walked out the doors he exited, and I saw him on a red carpet under an awning with his bodyguard waiting for his limo. I asked his bodyguard if I could have a photo with him. He said, let's ask Woody. I looked at Woody and told him it was on my list of things to do before I died. You always see him portrayed as some stuttering indignant. But tonight, he was more lucid than ever.

He put his hand on my shoulder and walked me down that red carpet and said, "in a minute, my limo is going to pick me up. But before it does, I am going to open the door, turn around, and you are going to take a photo." As we walked toward the limo, he opened the door and turned around and said, "are you ready?" I said, "ready as I'll ever be." I snapped the photo, beaming with pure white light shining, and he sunk into the seat, closed the door and drove off.

Unfortunately, I don't have a scanner, so this photo will have to do until I can upload mine. I guess the end of this story is as impotent as an 80 yr. old man. But I will never forget the glory in pushing myself out those doors to get to talk to Woody Allen, one-on-one. There is a lot of controversy over his personal life, but I appreciate him as a comedian first, a filmmaker second. His movies have brought joy and clarity and familiarity to my life. Thank you.