Curry Chronicles: Meeting The Man — Part II

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’!”

Tim beams and walks right over to the pay phone, picks it up, and says “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?!”

Then I make a huge mistake, I confess, “I just saw Times Square! I really like it!”

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!

“Thank you!”

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.

Liz Bank

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.

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Curry Chronicles: Meeting The Man — Part I

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

  •  The psychic also said, “Tim Curry is just a breath away, just turn around and he will be there.”
  •  I understood, I would meet TC while I was still 23 years old and nearly 24 years old.
  1.  Tim’s niece became ill and Tim brought her out to the lobby.
  2. It was apparent to me, the time was close at hand – time for Tim and me to come together again [after many lifetimes]. I knew three things my first visit with one of my most important [i]soul mates had to have:
  • It was to be just Tim and me, alone – no other fans around.
  • I wanted to leave a lasting impression on Tim, to remember me by. I’ll decided to write him a personal ad on the back of the Village Voice! It was original, different and I never heard about a fan doing that for a celebrity.
  • I would leave a lasting, positive, impression on him so he’d never forget meeting me.

Why the Village Voice? It was 1987, we were all into the Village Voice weekly paper, at least, in New York. This was before the internet and texting; the Back Page was the 1980s version of texting/Facebook! You’d see notes on the VV Back Page:

 Looking for the cute guy I saw on the F train at West 4th. Meet me at The Gap at 4:00pm.

I posted this personal ad a couple of days before I actually met him. I knew it we were meeting, I had no hesitation to go ahead and place the ad.

My Dearest Tim . . . Read my lips! I’m glad we finally met. How about drinks, sometime? . . . Your Angel

Thus, as our day to meet approached, I went to the ‘Village Voice’ offices to pay for and place my ad, to TC. So, it would appear the Wednesday after we would meet. This way, I could tell him of my gift for him when I would meet him the end of the next week.

Then the day before I met him, which, as I predicted would be while I was still 23 years old and nearly 24 years old; it would occur [the meeting]. EXACTLY one month to the day before my September 28th birthday! I wrote him a thank you note . . . which read, in part:

Thank you for taking the time to talk to me and sign your autograph! This is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten — to finally meet you! And be sure to check the ‘Village Voice’ this Wednesday, I left you a special message.

I also enclosed the poem I wrote for him, in my best handwriting on a stationary paper with a beautiful white unicorn on it! It looked like it was from the film “Legend”!

Then, work was over and I head over to 1515 Broadway on August 28, 1987. There I am standing in the third floor lobby of Minskoff Rehearsal Studios. Three seems to be a recurring number with Tim Curry and I.

The security guard observes me and said nothing. I suspect my appearance much like any other young actor coming to rehearse in these studios. I look at the ‘board’ seeing who is rehearsing and where.

 “Me And My Girl”–Room 6

I act like I’ve found what I want and go into the inner lobby. Tim is there . . . like an angel calling in the mist; I hear his voice, singing . . .from just down the hall! My heart skips a few beats; I am weak in the knees, euphoric, dizzy. I try sitting, it’ not working.

I hear footsteps coming down the hall. I compose myself and prepare. It’s an elderly couple and they come right to me.

The elderly British woman says to me, “You must be here to see Tim! He’ll be right out, luv!”

You all know the rest . . . she and the gentleman think I am TC’s daughter. They take their leave, I go to the pay phone [before the invention of cell phones] and call my best friend, Liz Bank, to quell my nerves or keep me from running screaming into the street.

With one ear I listen to Liz, while hearing Tim’s velvet-like singing and powerful speaking voice coming clearly down the hall. Then I hear goodbyes. I know Tim is on his way out! Liz insists on holding and begs me not to hang up. I lay the phone down on the little tray below the phone.

Quick footsteps approach the waiting areathe wall holds me up as butterflies explode inside my stomach. I think to myself, if I don’t talk now the opportunity is going to pass right by. Considering Tim’s rapid movement, I was not mistaken. I end up right in his path as I propel myself off the wall. Because I am in his way in the narrow area, he halts and smiles broadly, yet nervously.

I think he must also think I am his daughter and/or a teenage girl or both, as did Tim’s friends !

In a voice much too squeaky to be mine, I blurt out the first words that come to me. “Hello Mr. Curry, I’ve been waiting five years to meet you!”

He looks me up and down curiously, and says, “Yes?”

We stand together, in the middle of this room. I ask questions and he nods or says “Yeah.”

He says it a lot, in fact. I notice his Cheshire grin the whole time and at some point, I realize, he is looking at my chest!!!

Not that I mind, still, I’d also like him to notice my face or know my eye color at some point! I finally get frustrated with his glances downward at my minimal assets [at the time]. Not sure if Tim is even listening to me, I go to where his eyes are and point up and say, “Tim, my eyes are up here!”

I laugh and think to myselfDid I say that out loud? [Pause] My God, I did!”


[i] I believe we can have several soul mates in one lifetime.