*originally written 6/06
*original post @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com
|
| ...look, i don't kid myself ...yeah, i was a rockstar for about a minute, but, it’s not like I was, oh, I dunno, danny bonaduce, or kevin federline. So, i did'nt have many "stalkers" per se. there was that one young chick from minnesota or something who got my phone number and used to call me and leave me voicemails telling me how i was "talking to her" and "sending her messages" when she heard my voice on the TV or the radio, and she needed to talk to me because she knew i could "help her"...but, she only did that 2 or 3 times, and then she stopped. (if you’re reading this; I hope you got help and you’re ok…and please don’t kill me)
it was after my 2nd appearance on the howard stern show, after the "infamous" fight between me and crazy-cabbie. i was leaving the building, exiting the elevator and headed across the lobby toward the front doors. i could see this guy standing outside… just standing there, facing the lobby, looking in the glass doors, and he appeared to be looking in my direction. he was a short, frumpy little fellow, 30-35 yrs. old, dark messy curly hair, kinda chubby, wearing a big parka, wrinkled old jeans, beat-up black sneakers. something about him kinda creeped me out… the look on his face, they way he was standing there staring, i don't know, but he just gave off a weird vibe. so, as i exited the revolving doors, it was obvious he was staring dead at me. i simply ignored him. then, i heard; "scott?", in a low, soft voice. i turned slightly and looked at him as i was walking away. he turned toward me, then he said; "scott brooks?", again, in a low, soft voice. the whole time, he was just standing there with his hands in the front pockets of his parka, and he had no expression on his face, he was extremely calm. now it was official. he was giving off a REALLY creepy vibe... i mean REALLY creepy... and i have no problem admitting; i was scared shitless. i had a towncar waiting for me right in front of the building, so i pick up my pace a little, but no too much… i wanted to give off the impression that i was'nt even aware of him, and i certainly did'nt want him to know how nervous i really was. i look over my shoulder, and now he's slowly walking toward me, and he said my name again, but this time, a little louder, but still very calm and no expression on his face. my heart's beating like a jack rabbit at this point. what if he had a gun in his pocket and he was gonna pull a john lennon on me??? what if he was some crazed fan of cabbie's and he was gonna shoot me for fighting with his idol??? i get into my towncar and tell me driver to take me to the studio (we were shooting new budweiser commercials that morning). i look and see the guy walking slowly toward the car. it was like one of those horror movies where the girl is running from the killer, and the killer is walking slow and deliberate, but somehow he always manages to be right behind her. my driver is trying to pull away, but there's traffic, so he can’t move yet. then, before we can take off, NYPD pulls up alongside my towncar. i immediately look over at the creepy guy. he stopped in his tracks, then turned and walked away. i was so relieved i could've peed in my pants. i've never been so happy to have the police pull me over. but then i switch over to; "hey, what do the police want?" (my inner city black child coming to the surface) they ask the driver to roll down my back window. the cop on the driver’s side yells over; "yo! we just heard you on the radio… you shoulda kicked cabbie's ass!!! that guy's an asshole!!! if we see him, we'll kick his ass for you!!! we love those commercials!!!" i was happy they were fans, but i was THRILLED that they pulled up alongside me at that moment. who knows, they might've saved my life... or not... the guy coulda been just a weirdo & totally harmless. who knows? anyway, i never mentioned it to my driver or the cops, they had no idea it was even happening. i don't think i even told the guys when i got to the studio. i just wanted to forget about it, that's how creeped out i was. I mean, I’m no p*ssy…I’ll get face-to-face with your standard tough guy starting trouble. but psychos… they scare me.
|
No comments:
Post a Comment