Mr. T and me.

He called me “Brother.” That makes it official. I am a “brother” now and no one can take that away, because Mr. T said so. I was working at the Four Seasons Hotel, running sound for a 21 piece band. I was out front, enjoying my 5 minute break, standing in front of the revolving doors to the hotel, shooting the breeze with the Valet parking guys when out of no where a large black man wearing a gray hoodie Chicago sweater, speed-walks up to me like only Mr. T. can, and says, “Hey, brother!” like only Mr. T can. To which I replied, “Hey, Mr. T! You were great on the Conan O’Brian show.” He shook my hand, which had jumped out of my Tux pocket and was preventing him from entering the hotel, and replied, “That was the best interview I’ve ever done.” If you haven’t seen the Mr. T. interview on Conan O’Brian, they both end up on top of his desk, dancing like madmen and stating how a talking Mr. T doll is gonna ‘deflower Barbie after kicking G.I. Joe’s ass”. I released his hand and watched a 70 year old woman chase him to the elevators, demand a hug then brag to her husband as they got into their Cadillac. Here’s a video that Mr. T made, it contains knowledge of the ages, so pay attention, fool.