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An executive from the central office arrived this morning in New York to meet VIPS for power breakfast in the conference room. It was my job to facilitate this, and…in light of sundry morning timetable lapses, I was concerned about arriving at work in time.
I desperately pushed through the crowds in the Rockefeller mezzanine, sprinted down the long, long hall of shuffling commuters and, huffing and panting, reached the spiral staircase that leads up to the elevator bank.
There, sparkling in the center of the rotunda, was Richard Simmons, jogging in place, clapping and yelling encouragement at random hapless bystanders.
“SAY Farewell TO FAT! Oh my GOODNESS! You HAVE to HUSTLE! Move YOUR FANNY! LET’S GO!!” he shouted as I ran, gray-faced, up the spiral stairwell.
He had a few…handlers…I guess, but they looked like they also were afraid to get too near him. I have run into other celebrities in the corridors under Rockefeller Plaza before and they always basically look like New York’s other put-together professionals–checking blackberries and walking quickly to where they can make more money. Richard Simmons looked exactly like he does on TV. Is he always like that? Perhaps midnight finds him at home, disco jogging in sequined shorts and shouting exercise instructions at his cats…
Well anyway, thanks Richard, for getting me up that flight of stairs. The VIP breakfast was a success!