Valium Vickie

Monday, August 08, 2011

Dear Richard Dreyfuss

(Note: Below is the actual text of a letter I sent to the famous American actor Richard Stephen Dreyfuss.)

Dear Mr. Dreyfuss:

I'm a big fan of your work -- particularly your performance in What About Bob? and your guest-starring role on the show Weeds -- but that's not what this shit is about. When I was around 16 years old, I was involved in a very strange incident. At this point, Mr. Dreyfuss, you may be asking yourself, "Why should I care about something that happened to some lunatic who just so happens to enjoy the diversity of my acting range?" Because you were involved in this incident as well, Mr. Dreyfus ... albeit indirectly. With this letter, I hope to bring closure to something that's been weighing heavily on my conscience for years. I'll try to keep this as brief as possible and only include most vital information because I'm sure you're a very busy man.

Here's the setting: Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom, a glorious amusement park located in the otherwise unremarkable Allentown, PA.

Here's the back-story: A few friends and I are waiting in line for the Enterprise. That's the ride where a series of cars hang from a large horizontal wheel -- picture a Ferris Wheel that's parallel with the ground. When the ride begins, the wheel spins like a bastard in a clockwise direction. As if that isn't enough, during the ride, this giant hydraulic arm that's attached to the wheel's spoke starts extending the wheel vertically to create this Ferris-Wheel-on-crack experience and, for the rest of the ride, you're not only spinning like a bastard, but you're also upside down. Or maybe it was the swings we were waiting for. But that's not important.

While in line, I spot a man off in the waiting area who's a dead ringer for none other than Richard Stephen Dreyfuss. So, of course, the first thing I do is blurt out, "Holy shit, it's Richard Dreyfuss!" Then my friends see him, and it's all over. For the next ten minutes, we're spouting off line after line of memorable Richard Dreyfuss quotes: "You think he's gone? He's not gone. That's the whole point! He's never gone!" and "This was no boat accident!" and "Well, they're not moon burns, goddammit." Now, this is where shit gets weird, Mr. Dreyfuss. After the laughter and quote fest dies down a bit, I hear a distinct sound of a someone crying hysterically. I turn around and, a few places behind me in line, there's this preteen girl bawling dramatically while a few of her friends try to console her. She eventually makes eye contact with me, points in my direction and screams, "You're soooo mean!" This lunatic continues to alternate between screaming at me and weeping pathetically until a worker notices and decides to come over to see what's going on. The worker, a teenage boy with some type of Eastern European accent, asks what the problem is. That's when this blubbering freak explains reveals the crime that I've committed: "That guy (pointing at me) called my dad Richard Dreyfuss!" Then the waterworks start up again. Unsure what to do about my transgression, the foreign teen goes to "talk to his boss." After a few moments, the worker returns with a slightly older (bad, wispy mustache), slightly less foreign version of himself who tells my friends and I we aren't allowed to ride the Enterprise and that, "if we don't leave right now, we'll be kicked out of the entire park."

Do I think it's insane that a paying customer was kicked off of a ride for pointing out the obvious fact that some guy bore an uncanny resemblance to the Great American Actor, Richard Dreyfuss? You're goddamn right I do. But, Mr. Dreyfuss, what bothers me the most is how I handled the situation. I can't even count the number of times I've yearned to go back in time to the fateful moment I was asked to leave the Enterprise. Rather than quietly acquiescing to the wispy-stached worker's demand, I would've went over to that insolent, sniveling little bitch and set her straight by saying:

"Jaws, American Graffiti, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Tin Men, What About Bob?, Mr. Holland's Opus. Should I keep going, princess? How dare you act like I insulted your father by pointing out the resemblance he bears to an American Icon. The only thing your father has going for him is his physical likeness to Richard Dreyfuss, a man whose otherworldly talent allowed him to flat out transform himself into Dick Cheney in W. You have no reason to weep, you foolish little girl. Each and every time your mother spreads her legs for your father, I'm sure she fantasizes he's the real Richard Dreyfuss -- not some forgettable impostor. The next time anyone says your father looks like Richard Dreyfuss, the only response you should have is: 'I wish my father was Richard Dreyfuss.'"

Instead I walked away and allowed that misinformed child to go on believing that comparing someone to Richard Dreyfuss is a grave insult rather than a distinguished honor. For that, Mr. Dreyfuss, I will never forgive myself. I hope after reading this letter, Mr. Dreyfuss, you will somehow find it in your heart to forgive me. However, I will completely understand if you never want me to watch any of your movies ever again ... just let me know.

A fan seeking closure,
Jared Bilski

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