I've had a few PM's about my "backrub with Ed Harris" comment I made in another thread, so I'll explain. I used to DJ in a nightclub in Gibsons, BC, in the late 80's and early 90's. It was the only nightclub on the Sunshine Coast, so we were pretty busy, and it was the ONLY place to go at night. In 1993, Stephen King's Needful Things was being filmed there, and Ed Harris and Bonnie Bedelia were starring in the movie, and quickly became regulars at the Club. (Ed was loving the ugly, fat chicks, by the way). I was wrapping up things one night, doing my last song, "thanks for coming out, now go away" schtick on the mic, when a beer bottle came sailing up out of the crowd and smashed into the inside wall of the DJ booth, showering me with glass. I ended up being covered in beer (it was a half-full bottle of Corona), and had a few cuts on my face due to the glass flying everywhere. After the initial shock, I looked out at the crowd, and saw the guy who did it, who was pointing and laughing, and lost my shit. I ran down, grabbed him, and absolutely pummelled him. I mean, I spent a solid 30 seconds beating the ever-loving shit out of him while his friends tried to pull me off, to no avail. Blood was everywhere, he had a busted nose, and was pretty well unconscious. I didn't care, I just kept going. The bouncers eventually got there, got me off of him, and then a bit of a scrum formed between his friends and me and the other bar staff. We were all pushing and shoving, and eventually mobbed our way out the back door and into the parking lot. It got a little ugly at that point; some car windows got busted, a few more scraps broke out, and it was only getting worse. The cops showed up and took away a few of their guys, and the staff went back inside. Needless to say, we were all amped up, pissed off, and I was getting shit from the boss for being "unprofessional" and starting a riot. I was still pissed off, and was ranting and raving and still totally whacked out on testosterone (and a few tequila shots). All the customers had left the bar by now, except for Ed Harris. He normally hung around after the bar with us, due to his VIP status. And it gave the cops a chance to follow other drivers before he tried to drive home. (There was this time he parked his car on the front lawn of a house that he wasn't renting, but that's a whole other story.) He saw I was madder than hell, and came over and started to talk to me, trying to calm me down. He wanted me to do some deep breathing exercises, some mind-focus shit, and a bunch of other "artsy" mental calming stuff. I just kept walking away from him, brushing him off. The next thing I know he's standing behind me, has grabbed my neck in both hands, and starts to rub. Full-on, two-handed, shiatsu massage type rubbing. Well, silence hit the bar, and everyone just stared, wide-eyed, at Ed Harris giving me a neck massage and back rub, while talking softly into my ear, trying to get me calmed down. And then he bent me over one of the speakers. At that point, all of my friends (redneck bouncers and loggers) totally lost their shit, laughing their ass off, pissing themselves, and scrambled to find a camera. (This was before the days of cameras in every cel phone). I have never lived that down. The only thing that I'm grateful for is the fact that there is no photographic evidence of that ever happening. On the plus side, he got me a role as an extra in the movie (Mob Thug #17), and always looked at me with a twinkle in his eye on set. He also introduced me to Max von Sydow, and I got to meet Fraser Heston (director), and Fraser's dad, Charlton Heston, when he visited. I also have a copy of Needful Things, signed by Stephen King, Ed, Bonnie, Max, Fraser, and Charlton. I think that's worth a back rub. FOCUS: Ever had a brush with greatness? A run-in with Celebrity? Share your own stories.