Back in the 80s (or was it the 90s?) I held a brief job as cashier at the long gone Nicky Blair’s Restaurant on Sunset. One Saturday I filled in for the girl who took reservations – a harrowing job to say the least.
The phone rang. I answered it.
I said, “Nicky Blairs, can I help you?”
He said, “Yeah gimme a table for four people at around eight.”
Of course we were more than completely full up for 8 o’clock, and as I started to tell the caller this, he piped up, “Well, dear, this is Mickey Spillane.”
I immediately said, “Yeah, and I’m Marie of Rumania, but you ain’t getting a table here tonight at eight.”
He laughed like hell, and in short order I realized he really WAS Mickey Spillane. We talked for a while, I told him what a fan I was of his work, and of course, gave him one of Nicky’s “special” tables – you know, the ones that don’t exist.
Unless maybe you’re Mickey Spillane.