"Don't fly your car, man! WHOOOOOooooo!"

I used to live in LA, so I had a number of celebrity encounters, but by far the weirdest was when I had a conversation with Gary Busey while we were both stuck in traffic on Wilshire Boulevard. My window was down. I pulled up behind a stopped car and noticed the car to my left had cigar smoke wafting out of it. I hear someone say "Don't you just want to grab a shotgun and clear all these fuckers out?" I turn and there, teeth gleaming, sitting in the passenger seat of a giant black sedan, is Gary Fucking Busey. I'd been up since 4am that day so I was already really tired -- on the verge of asleep -- so to have Gary Busey start a conversation with me about LA traffic was surreal. I was not sure it was actually happening. We chatted for a couple of minutes. I told him I'd just gotten my pilots license 3 hours earlier and he got really excited for me. "Congrats, man! That's fuckin' great!" It turned out his son had trained at the same flight school I had. When the light turned green his car pulled away and he stuck his arm out the window, pumping his fist with a giant thumbs up -- "Don't fly your car, man! WHOOOOOooooo!" That was one weird fucking day. And, yeah: after months of training to be a pilot, I finally got my license, and the first person I told was not any of my friends or my family or even my girlfriend. It was Gary Busey. Life is strange.