Two of Three Strokes

Gary Coleman came through the drive thru at the McDonalds I was working at in 1986. In a total douche move, he had the driver of the limo pull through, so he could order the meal himself from the rear passenger window. All of the crew minus the two grill men, myself and a giant black man named Fleetwood, gathered around the drive thru window as Gary told them he was off to The Springs (Palm Springs). The tiny little drive thru girl came back and said, “Fleetwood, do you want meet Gary Coleman?” Fleetwood boomed out in a loud low voice that nearly shook the building, “THAT LITTLE NIGGA’ DON’T MEAN SHIT TO ME!!!” The manager later told me Coleman had actual fear in his eyes. Welcome to MoVal Gary.

A couple years later, I would be working a casino gaming gig as a croupier. That night’s little fundraiser was at the hip and swinging Holiday Inn on University Ave right next to UCR. It was for D.A.R.E., and a very drunk Todd Bridges would be a keynote speaker giving a barn burner on the dangers of drugs. Besides being nearly too drunk to stand, he still did his speech/community service, and then later as I was leaving I saw his limo pull up to the dark side door I had exited, and two high school aged girls I knew from the local coffee shop (See’s Café’) came darting out of the same door and quickly into the back of the limo. I looked over as they got in. Todd saw me and smiled as he closed the door. The girls in question were the daughters of local high muckety-mucks in business and politics. Todd may have been clean from dangerous drugs, but it looked like booze and maybe statutory rape were still on the menu.

I never met the third kid in the show, but apparently all that would have taken is being on the right hooker track in Florida with a pocket full of cash and maybe a bindle of blow. Those three were proof positive that if you are a loving, concerned parent, you’ll do everything to keep them away from Hollywood at all costs.

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