DISCLAIMER: These are my experiences, shared by me, as they happened to me. People in these true event(s), may not remember them in the same way. Certain facts can be agreed upon by all parties, nevertheless. I met Tim Curry, in New York, on August 28, 1987. Beyond that, I do not, in any way, suggest, hold or express that anyone else experienced this event in any paranormal, psychic or unusual way. That is how my experience of the event(s) happened, though.
MEETING THE MAN
By Angela Theresa Egic
I laugh and think to myself “Did I say that out loud? [Pause] My God, I did!”
Then, I realize Tim is moving closer and closer to me, and due to the natural body space thing – I back away a little. Again, not that I mind that he is closing in on me, but it is getting difficult to see his face as he is very close indeed. Besides I try to get a look at his crotch [pay back is a bitch]. When I finally take a big step back and get a good look “there” it’s a total loss. His pants are very loose in the front and what I want to see is not visible in the baggy pants.
I must’ve looked very disappointed, Tim seems hurt at my expression.
To comfort him, I get out two words, “Loose pants.”
Tim laughs that laugh. I’m a bit embarrassed that twice now, I’ve been so bold.
To cover my embarrassment, more words come pouring out of my mouth a mile a minute. “When is Me and My Girl opening? Where? Can I get your addre . . . er, I mean . . .your autograph?”
Tim laughs at my little blunder and nods yes about the autograph.
Since I am empty-handed; my backpack with pens and autograph book on the nearby bench, he eyes me and waits without a word.
His patient glance jolts me to attention, I nervously giggle and say, “Oh yeah, sorry, let me get the autograph book!” As I walk to my bag — a fun idea occurs to me.
Liz is still on the phone.
“Hey Tim!” I am surprised at my familiarity. “You wanna really freak somebody out?”
Tim gets this sinister gleam in his eye, as only he can do, and says “Yeah!”
Wow, he is exactly as I imagined — fun and playful!
Hardly believing it, I instruct him, “Go pick up that phone over there and say ‘Hello Liz’!”
My jaw must’ve been on the floor. I smile to myself thinking, “Wow! Tim listens to me!”
I pull out the book for him to sign he is still having a little conversation with Liz.
As I approach, he excuses himself graciously from Liz, gently lays the phone where I had left it, and gives me his full-undivided attention. All right, I am the only one there at this point, too!
He signs thoughtfully, thinking about what he was writing. I continue talking. Tim takes in every word and responds to my questions. After he finishes signing, he closes the book and hands it to me.
Tim waits, I thank him and he continues to stand there.
Finally running out of words, Tim still there, I tell him, “Oh, I am going to see Blue Money this weekend!”
Sounding excited, Tim responds, “Oh, is that out here now?!”
Tim rolls his eyes, then sarcastically informs me, “Oh that is my LEAST favorite!”
Uncomfortable at my blunder, “Oh well, I guess I said the wrong thing! I am a writer, Tim, and you should have been in it more!”
TC is now acting like I’m an annoying child; no longer smiling he’s being so very professional.
I hate it. Moments ago, he was so fun, playing with me verbally. Now he was so standoffish.
I had to make up to him fast . . . I need him to remember me, notice me! What can I say now? Oh, of course, let me follow-up with what I know.
“Oh, by the way, how is your niece, Tim? I heard she was sick.” I meant it, too, I did want to know how it turned out.
TC completely came out of his momentary stoic attitude; reaching for my hand, I think, with a few tears in his eyes, “Oh my God, she was so sick. I am so worried about her!”
“Did she see a doctor?”
Very worried, Tim tells me, “No, she refuses to go . . . says she doesn’t need one!”
I tried to reassure him, “It’s been very hot here. She probably just was overheated.”
“Do you think so?” He earnestly asks me.
“Yes, definitely, “ I honestly share, “it happens to me a lot in this humidity.”
Tim and I are friends again!
“Can I please get a picture? I brought my camera.” Tim didn’t look particularly pleased with this request. I quickly added, “Oh, I want to be in it too!”
Tim laughed and agreed, “Oh, sure!”
Like a perfect cue, Tim’s friend, an older British gentleman with curly gray hair, comes out of the hallway and tells TC it is time to go.
Tim calls out, “Perry, will you take a picture for this girl here?”
Another Perry! My friend, Perry, was the one who told me about Tim and his niece at Dreamgirls.
Tim’s friend, Perry, says sure, and asks me to show him how to work my camera.
TC winks at Perry and comes to stand beside me. Tim and Perry are having some sort of secret non-verbal conversation about me, as I was to find out.
Tim and I stand side by side. Tim grins at Perry, not even turning toward me. I lift my hand, behind TC, and start to put it on his shoulder, I get cold feet and put my arm down to my side. Before I can think about the chance I’ve just lost — to actually touch him; Tim GRABS ME AND PULLS ME AGAINST HIS LEFT SIDE! HARD!
I thought I was going to fall over, yet TC throws his arm over my shoulder; it didn’t hurt, he holds me up. All I’m thinking is ‘Tim Curry just grabbed me! Wow!’
FLASH! The picture is taken.
Tim still has his arm over my shoulder. TC is looking in my face, saying “Thank you!”
“No, Tim, thank you!”
Hmmm, his hand is still there and, wait, was that warm feeling moving down toward my breast. Is Tim really moving his hand slowly toward my left breast? Is he going to grope me, right here, in front of Perry and the security guard? Crazy thoughts run wildly through my head . . .!
Perry is holding my camera toward me, but will not bringing it to me. He can clearly see that Tim has me in his grip. I don’t want to be rude and remove his hand, nor walk forward causing Tim’s hand, radiating such heat into my shoulder, to drop off of me. And still slowly, I can feel his hand moving very, very slowly to cup my breast. Really?
No, I must be imagining this, wishing it, right?
No, I think he’s really doing this!
Perry blurts out, “Don’t you want your camera?”
“Yeah, of course.” Perry makes me leave Tim. As Tim’s hand drops off me, TC winks at Perry.
They were teasing me, I am sure! Hilarious . . .guys, really hilarious.
Perry heads to the exit. Tim turns to look at me and walks backward, without peaking behind him, and repeats thank you as I say it back to him. It’s a game!
“No, thank YOU!
“No, thank YOU!”
I hear the elevator chime; Tim and Perry are gone. It’s just me, the security guy [behind a plexy glass thing and he never looked up from his book].
“What was that?!” is all I can think.
Then I remember Liz! I run over to the phone and sort of collapse against the wall, again. I am flying, I am high, and I am dizzy and euphoric! Who needs liquor or drugs?
Liz informs me she taped the whole thing!!! We decide to keep the meeting to ourselves until TC leaves town with the tour. Otherwise too many RHPS fans may come up and interrupt rehearsals. I didn’t want to be the reason the rehearsals are interrupted.
I hang up with Liz and realize I forgot to give TC my letter!!! The one where I tell him this was my birthday gift one month early and about the Village Voice personal ad.
Like magic, a tall young man with glasses comes out of the hallway. I approach him.
“Are you in Me and My Girl with Tim Curry?” He assures me he is and I hand him my letter. “You have to give it to Tim tomorrow.”
The man is wide-eyed, like he’s scared of me. “Yes, I will.”
“Promise? It’s really important!” As I take advantage of his fear of me.
The next morning, as I awake for work, my phone rings. I hear a weird click and the following:
Tim Curry: Hello, Liz!
Liz: (weakly): Hello? [she sounds suspicious]
Tim Curry: Where are you?
Liz: Long Island? [hesitantly]
Tim Curry: Oh, that’s quite a long way away, isn’t it?
Liz: I guess.
Tim Curry: I’m talking to your friend here!
Liz: I know.
Then Liz came on the phone, live. We laughed about how she had Tim on the phone, and she thought I put someone up to it. Liz didn’t believe it was really him (until a week later)!!!
Through the years, Liz would call me in the morning and play the tape. I would always get a good laugh and smile hearing his voice, talking to her.
Sadly, the tape disappeared eventually. We never made the copy.