.png)
It has to mean something!
Both Matt and I attended St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia. We became friends after I successfully completed the ‘Passport’ program the summer before freshman year. Essentially this summer program was to see if you were a big ol' dummy and was a conditional acceptance to the University. My grades sucked but I got good scores on my SAT’s (I was lazy). I got into other schools but the reality was my cousin, “Irish”, was going to be a junior at St. Joe’s when I was entering freshman year and I knew he could assist with parties and booze (shout out to my cousin for coming through and then some).
With that sound decision making, I joined the Passport program expecting it to suck, but in fact, it was awesome. Essentially it was 2 months of college with other like-minded folks and we got a couple of course credits to apply against our requirements.
I went to the same school in suburban New York for 13 consecutive years (K-12), so I never really had to try making friends. I’d say I’m a pretty outgoing guy, but I was never the "new guy" before. Thrust into a situation where I knew no one, I remember on day one of Passport feeling like a fish out of water and being unsure how to get in the mix. Luckily for me, my now-friend Phil was also in the program and is so full of natural charisma and bullshit (a consultant) he walked around to my dorm room, introduced himself and said, “Let’s go, we’re getting Ruby Tuesday’s”. One delightful burger later, our friendship was cemented.
This brings us to the point of the preamble. Phil was assigned as Matt's freshman year roommate and we were introduced to each other that first day. As I sit here thinking about the origins of our friendship, and all of the moments in our lives to get us to that point, there really is only one answer. It was fate.
Matt: I will interject to make it clear that I was too smart to attend the Passport program. I met Phil on move-in day when he showed up without his parents (who does this?) in a beat up ‘90’s Ford Explorer reeking of cigarettes and carrying pretty much no possessions other than a flat screen TV and an Xbox. He was supposed to have purchased the mini fridge for our dorm, but forgot. So, in a perfect example of our friendship to come, he spontaneously asked me to hop in the Explorer and take a quick trip to Best Buy. He casually mentioned that his “tall friend” from Passport would be coming along so I would need to sit in the back. The rest was history.
Now when it comes to thinking about fate, or pondering the universe at large, where we came from, what existence means, my brain starts to hurt and I pee myself and pass out. Meaning I try to avoid thinking about it whenever possible. Is the butterfly effect an extension or a tool of fate itself? What is our purpose?
Matt and I would come to learn that our lives were intertwined for a singular purpose. And that purpose was to be walking back together from dinner on campus one dark and wintery night. Heavy snow and wind had severely impacted the visibility in the parking lot, and so we almost didn’t even see the wayward soul in the distance. In fact, we had almost passed my old freshman dorm, Sweaty Sourin, and trudged off campus when the lost wanderer shouted out above the howling storm.
“Excuse me, can you point me to the…Hawk Rock?” Matt and I stopped dead in our tracks and squinted into the oncoming flurries. To our stunned surprised, the disoriented traveler was none other than Dave Coulier.
Trying to play it cool, we pointed him in the right direction. “Thanks guys,” said Dave.
Looking into each other's eyes we said at the same time, “Was that Dave fucking Coulier?”
Of course we knew it was him, who wouldn’t recognize Uncle Joey from Full House? What we didn’t know was why Dave Coulier was on our campus. Not even a full ten seconds passed when without a word, we both turned around, and followed Dave to the Hawk Rock. Our shitty friends back at the Drexel Arms would just have to wait on us to start our usual shenanigans of watching 24 and chasing Evan Williams with ice water.
The Hawk Rock was the St. Joe’s student center, bands would play (actually saw Eve 6 there which was mid), people would have plenty of room for activities, and apparently the school had stand up comedians perform from time to time. We only learned this as it became apparent from stalking Dave into the venue he was here to do a set. A set Matt and I could not afford to miss.
We settled into the crowd of students, by all accounts over a hundred people knew about this event in advance unlike the two of us. I blame us for being total degenerates and not being up on the school activities that must have existed in a school newsletter? Did we have one? I know we did have a school paper as Matt had raged against the administration in an op ed our Junior year.
I digress. Dave quickly jumped into his set, beginning with commentary on the weather which is always a strong opener.
“How about this snow? Man this blizzard came out of nowhere, not a fun drive in.”
Now immediately, immediately, he went into an exchange that is burned into my mind.
“What’s the deal with the names of these weather channel storm updates? Why are they all called things like, ‘Storm Tracker 4000’, that’s funny.”
I couldn’t control myself. I was not there to be mean, as discussed fate brought me there. So maybe it was fate that I said, without thinking and on pure reflex, “Oh my god.” Innocuous enough, but clearly audible over the lack of laughter coming from the audience. Also I know readers will be surprised but I hadn’t even had an alcoholic beverage that night so this was not the fault of my pal Miller Lite. And I am not a heckler, I was raised Irish Catholic and the guilt / shame would be too hard to overcome.
Matt: I must inject once again with one important qualifier to note that Kirk is not a sober heckler. But I did witness him drunkenly boo a between-periods trivia participant at a Rangers game for getting a question wrong. I remember wanting to crawl under my seat, but thankfully a majority of the 18,000 spectators at the Garden that night thought it was pretty funny. Also, after Kirk’s first outburst during the Coulier set, I tried to egg him on further. I wanted him to yell, “You Oughta Know, Dave!” at the top of his lungs. But unfortunately, there was no Miller Lite or Evan Williams on hand so he refused. And I was currently on disciplinary probation, the origins of which will be explained when I further detail the school paper debacle to which Kirk alluded earlier. My witty Alanis Morrisette reference would go unused, which brings me great shame even to this day.
Dave Coulier was as cool as the weather. He responded with a folksy chuckle, “They can’t all be winners pal.”
And that was it. He moved on with his scripted PG rated set. I don’t remember a single thing from it other than the very first moment. I sat there after the brief exchange, not in shock, but almost surprised to find myself sitting there. It was as if the last 30 minutes were an out of body experience and I had no control over my own actions. Suddenly I could empathize with people who sleepwalk, or commit brutal crimes without their own conscious decision making.
I still find myself awake at nights, staring out my window at the stars, wondering, what did this mean? Why was the only moment I’ve had with a celebrity have been this brush with Dave Coulier? Again my head starts to hurt and I fear it will explode if my thoughts linger on it. Fate is the only answer, and it does not have to explain itself or provide the satisfaction as to the ‘why?’.
Perhaps it’s stayed with me for so long since our journey isn’t over. Maybe it has to mean something. I need to know. And so I continue to stalk Coulier's whereabouts, hoping some day to decipher the meaning. Call it the Dave Tracker 4000 if you will.