Several years ago I was attending the Virginia Film Festival at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. I was on my way to a panel discussion that was to include famed movie critic Roger Ebert.
When I arrive at the conference room where the panel discussion is to be held, Roger Ebert is standing in the doorway talking intently with another person. Roger Ebert is blocking the doorway. The entire doorway. By himself.
(This is back when he was able to do that.)
Ohmygoodness. I can’t believe I’m saying these horrible things. We all love Roger Ebert and think he is a genius and wish him nothing but the best. But we’re just reporting what happened, here.
Where were we? Oh yes. Roger Ebert’s girth is blocking my entrance. Do I graciously interrupt to tell him how much I admire his work and oh by the way would he mind if I snuck by him so I can slip in and grab a good seat for his presentation?
Of course not. I simply say in a timid voice, “Excuse me.” Still deep in discussion, a distracted Roger Ebert shifts, oh, maybe about two inches to the left. Not wanting to further interrupt the conversation, I try to shimmy around him to the right. It’s kind of like doing the limbo, only horizontally rather than vertically and with a wide pole rather than a skinny one.
But I manage it. Grazing Roger Ebert almost imperceptibly, I limbo into the room.
