The Day I Squeezed Harrison Ford's Melons

Los Angeles is a surreal place to live. I suppose it always has been. At least since the very first movie studio was built in Hollywood on Sunset Blvd in 1911. As they say, “the rest is movie history.” Since its birth, the one thing Hollywood has always seemed to have is movie stars, celebrities, and icons. Whatever you call them, Los Angeles has got them. That’s what makes living in Los Angeles so surreal.

A lot of famous folk live here. It is almost ridiculous. You can be walking your dog in the morning and stroll past Billy Bob Thornton sipping on his morning coffee. You can be washing your car and Apollo Creed from “Rocky” rides by on a bicycle. Or you can be in the produce section of your local supermarket and see Harrison Ford squeezing cantaloupes. That’s what happened to me.

Now I may be a farm girl who grew up in the corn belt of the Midwest, but I have lived in Los Angeles for many, many years now. I guess you could say that I am immune to celebrities, which means I don’t get starstruck anymore. Well, there was that time I was coming out of the bathroom at a cocktail party and Cher walked by. Thank God, I didn’t leave my zipper down or have toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I hate when that happens. But Cher doesn’t really count. She is beyond an iconic celebrity. Cher is a Goddess.

Anyway, back to Harrison Ford. So, there I am in a local supermarket in West LA, confident in knowing that I am finally immune to movie stars and I no longer have to worry about behaving like a complete ninny every time I see one. Imagine my surprise when I saw Harrison Ford walk over to the cantaloupes and I suddenly started to feel that funny tingling sensation deep down in my innards. That feeling that usually precedes one of my embarrassing starstruck behaviors. Shit. I am not immune to Harrison Ford. Who knew?! In my defense, I did not see Harrison Ford. I saw Han Solo. I saw Indiana Jones. I saw Harrison-Han-Solo-Indiana-Jones-Ford. And I don’t care what you say, that’s a lot to see.

I couldn’t believe it. That can’t be Harrison Ford squeezing cantaloupes. Doesn’t he have someone who does that for him? Suddenly, I felt like a true detective, a detective on a mission, or in my case, a detective with an obsession. A mission-obsession to find out if that truly was Harrison Ford or just a man lucky enough to look like him. Mission accepted. Anyone who is a true Harrison Ford fan knows he has a scar located just below his lower lip, just above his chin. A scar he obtained when he once lost control of his car, ran into a phone pole, and upon impact slammed his face into the steering wheel. Now I ask you, other than a true Harrison Ford fan, who would know those precise, detailed facts? That was it. If I could get close enough to the subject without scaring him off, I could investigate his chin for the very clue that I would need to prove his identity. O-kay, Mystery Cantaloupe Squeezer, game on.

I surveyed the layout of the produce section. Only avocados, green bananas, and papayas lay between me and the Cantaloupe Squeezer. I nonchalantly strolled over to the avocados. I picked one up and placed it into my shopping basket. Cantaloupe Squeezer still hadn’t noticed me. The subject seemed to remain focused on his task at hand. So I made my way to the green banana display, which was tall enough for me to hide behind. Cantaloupe Squeezer was now just a few feet away from me, but still not close enough for me to study his chin. I needed a plan. I had to get closer. But how? What would Indiana Jones do? Suddenly I knew. I grabbed a bunch of bananas, tightened my grip on my shopping basket, and moved towards the cantaloupe display. My heart was beating faster than a newborn heifer calf. As I got closer to the cantaloupes, I conveniently dropped the bananas I held in my hand. This gave me the opportunity to drop to the floor and crawl over to the cantaloupe display table. I could see the Cantaloupe Squeezer’s feet just on the other side of the table. Now all that separated me from the Mystery Cantaloupe Squeezer was a pile of melons. I slowly began to stand up until my head was level with the highest cantaloupe on the pile. I could clearly see the subject in question. He definitely looked like Harrison Ford, but I could not get a good, unobstructed view of his chin. Damn, the subject was even taller than I had suspected. I was going to have to stand up straight and tall in order to investigate his chin. That’s exactly what I did. I stood up and instantly there I was face to face with my subject. The problem was I stood up too fast, missed his chin, and ended up looking the subject directly in the eyes. There we stood in an eyeball deadlock. Both of us were staring at each other, refusing to blink. Oh shit. How do I get out of this one? I should have just gone straight to the freezer section, bought my pint of ice cream, and went home. Just then something amazing happened. The Cantaloupe Squeezer grinned at me. He then tilted his head back and pushed his chin out towards me as if to say, “Is this what you were looking for?” Holy Jello Mold. There it was. The very scar I had been searching for. It almost glimmered in the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. It’s him. It’s undeniably him. It’s Harrison Han Solo Indiana Jones Ford. The identity was confirmed and my mission was complete.

But now I was in a bit of a pickle. We continued to stare at each other. The produce section suddenly went completely silent, and the air became as thick as my Grandma’s tapioca. It was like we both were waiting to see who would make the next move. Just then a grin snuck across my face, and I too tilted my head back and pushed my chin out as if to say, “Well, this has been fun. Let’s not do it again.” I grabbed a cantaloupe and walked away. I headed straight for the wine aisle, because I knew a day like this needed to end with a dry, bold glass of red and the humbling truth that I was not immune. No, I was starstruck as hell. I’ll never look at a cantaloupe the same again.