The Time I Met Mike Tyson
“Drive slow homie.” — Kanye West
Imet Mike Tyson as a wide eyed youth. Around 8 years old, I was on vacation with my family in Hawaii. Escaping the bitter and cold winters of Canada we jetted away one December in hopes of celebrating a sunny and serene New Year abroad.
We were walking in a small but upscale strip mall when he first caught my eye. He was dressed in a fine collared shirt and was resting alone on the benches of a lavish and regal water fountain. A large and muscular man, he was sitting peacefully with his arm folded over his lap. The first thing I noticed was the tattoo on his face.
Being young and separated by a generation, I didn’t know who Mike was, nor did I know that he was famous. He was just another human to me; he seemed like a regular guy with no place to be. My father however, was not as innocent as I. The minute he walked into our vision, my Dad knew he was staring down the youngest heavy weight champion of all time. He was very familiar with Mike’s work. He would tell me stories about how he watched pay-per-view fights at bars and restaurants in our home city.
“The fight would end before we even got a chance to sit down!”
My dad rejoiced in the fact that Mike Tyson was well versed in his field. I think seeing somebody train so hard and be able to reap the benefits was something he respected. I think it’s something that people still respect today.
They may forget what you said but they will never forget how you made them feel. — Carl Buehner
Standing afar, I watched my Dad sit down next to Mike and engage him in conversation. I have fond memories of that moment. Although it was only a couple minutes, it felt like they spoke for an hour. Like any kid, I remember feeling happy to be standing next to a celebrity. “Mike Tyson?” The kids would ask me at school. “Of course I know him” I would reply, and brag obnoxiously about the encounter. I remember Mike speaking in a very calm and mellow tone that day. In discussion,my Dad and Mike spoke as if they were old friends. For somebody who beat up others for a living, Mike Tyson reminded me more of a pastor than he did a prizefighter.
Within the next few minutes we were swarmed by on lookers who discovered Mike in a moment of normalcy. Here likes the great Mike Tyson, frolicking in Honolulu. It was the kind of moment everybody wants to capture. The ambush was incredible. Tourists swiftly brought out their cameras anxious to take that perfect picture. Everybody wanted a piece of Mike.
“We have to take a photo!”
I yanked at my dad’s arm, suddenly understanding Mike’s notoriety. The fountain was getting congested and soon we’d have to leave. My dad reached in his pocket in agreement. To my dismay, left his phone at the hotel. “Oh God!” I thought. “Let’s get his autograph then!” I shrieked. My Dad reached into his pocket once more, only to disclose that he did not have a pen. In that moment, I was completely and utterly shattered. As much as I wanted to brag at school, Mike was also the first celebrity I ever met. I wanted to remember that moment, and I wanted to fondly remember it as an adult.
“Let’s leave” my Dad said to us, as he stood and bid Mike a gentle goodbye. That’s one thing I love about my parents. Even if somebody is famous, they treat them like any other human being. Meeting Mike was another part of life, it wasn’t something to be fawned over for years. As bummed as I am that I never got a photo, I am really happy I have that memory. As I got older I would watch a lot of Mike Tyson fights and I truly became a fan of his work.
“I can’t believe I met that guy” I think to myself. But I’m glad our run in was casual. The best part of life is we all share the same earth. You never know when something cool is going to happen. Maybe today you’ll meet Mike Tyson. Maybe you’ll get a raise.
I try to treat life the same way my Dad treated Mike. I enjoy the moment, I savor the memory, and I move along.
The only difference is that I take a photo.
Dinners, outings, even life at home. I love to take photos. Every day of life is different. You never know what happens next. Just make sure you savor the moment, whatever that means to you.
If you found this interesting, you may like this piece I wrote about switching barbers.
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