Gary Busey Is Stalking Us

After a steak lunch on Friday at Abe and Louie's, who did we run into in front of the Mandarin Oriental but our old friend Gary Busey?

Yes, this guy.

And we know him. Kind of. Back during the fabled Three Jews and a Mexican road trip, we ran into Gary Busey, movie star, at the bar of the Driskill Hotel in Austin Texas. He was sitting at a table with two friends of his, on a cow-skin couch, drinking what was no doubt club soda.

If being a minor celebrity has taught me anything, it's that people don't want to be bothered while they are drinking. After 20 minutes debating whether and how we should approach Gary Busey ("We should just ask him for the saltshaker." "To pour into our beers?"), we ultimately decided not to go talk to this crazy, crazy man.

It is a decision I have regretted every single day. We should have gone and sat down and offered to buy Gary Busey a drink. And when he declined, we should have persisted. We should have persisted until he yelled at us. And then we could have said that Gary Busey once yelled at us.

But we did not. Alas.

But this weekend, chance gave us another shot at destiny. Once again, the team members of Three Jews and a Mexican were assembled in the same city -- one that, as fate would have it, ends with the same sound -- Boston and Austin.

So this time we did go up to him. He was wearing one of the dirtiest sweaters I have ever seen and smoking one of the biggest cigars I have ever seen. He politely declined our request for a picture. When we asked him what he was doing in Boston now, he answered, "a movie." When we asked him what he was doing in Texas in the summer of 07, he said that he was doing something in Louisiana and then got flown into Austin often. It made little sense to us then, as it no doubt makes very little sense to you now.

When it became clear that he would not offer us cigars, we said goodbye and started to leave, content with the knowledge that, when we all got together in a city that ends in -oh-ston, Gary Busey would not be far behind.

So, of course, Josh, after debating with himself for a second, turns around to face Gary Busey and blurts, "Well, I guess we'll see you in Flauston!" He then turns beet red, turns, almost trips, and walks away faster than we have ever seen him walk, undoubtedly thinking, "what on earth did I just say?"

But you know what comforts me? It wouldn't surprise me if Gary Busey, somewhere, is googling "Flauston," and trying to figure out a way to get there.