CONWAY — When my husband asked if I wanted possibly to have dinner with Dave Barry, I casually said, “Sure.”
In my mind, I screamed, “I’m not worthy! What will I say? He won’t think I’m funny!”
If you said, “Who’s Dave Barry?,” first of all, never admit that to anyone. Second of all, he’s one of the humor-columnist triumvirate. One of the Big 3 — it’s the late Erma Bombeck, the late Lewis Grizzard and the still-alive Dave Barry.
He’s one of my comedy-writing heroes, and he’s coming to UCA in October. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.
Dave sometimes writes in all caps in his columns, and one of his popular phrases is I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. (See, that’s how you know he isn’t making up something.)
My husband teaches at UCA, and we’re on the potential list of guests to meet Dave Barry before he takes the stage.
Thinking about meeting Dave Barry reminded me of the time about 15 years ago when I was working for another newspaper and writing a weekly column.
A woman came up to me in the grocery store, stone-faced, and told me she loved my column. I said something witty like, “Oh, thanks!”
Then she said, “Did you get a haircut? It looks different.”
I told her no, maybe I’d just fixed it differently that day.
She stared at me for a few seconds and said, “I thought you’d be funnier.”
I’ve never gotten over disappointing that woman. Should I have told a joke? Tap danced? Opened up a jar of olives and shoved them up my nose?
Then I realized something my husband likes to say — it’s not about me.
Maybe Dave Barry is worrying about coming to Arkansas. Maybe he’s nervous about having dinner with some UCA officials, faculty and crazy people like me. Maybe he’s thinking, “What if I’m not funny?” Maybe he’s thinking, “They’ve already paid me — who cares?”
I know as a columnist it’s very flattering to have people recite your own articles to you. I had a woman recently gush about the column I wrote about my college-age son hauling all his stuff home for the summer.
So, I thought I could reread some of Dave Barry’s columns. (I had one of his books, but I think I sold it in my last garage sale.) I could tell him something like, “Dave,” or “Mr. Barry,” or “Your Comedic Genius,” I LOVED the column you wrote on colonscopies! It was such an inspiration! I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants!”
It’s true.
I’m worried, because I have a habit of talking too fast and saying things I shouldn’t, and it’s even worse when I’m nervous.
But as one humor writer to another, maybe I should just play it cool. Maybe I’ll just get a tattoo of his name on my arm and wear short sleeves.
Maybe I’ll ask for his autograph. Maybe I’ll kiss his ring. Maybe I’ll hyperventilate.
Or, maybe I’ll just say, “I thought you’d be funnier.”
I’ll bet he’d think that was hilarious.