Dancing with the Stars

They mentioned on the radio this morning that it's Patrick Swayze's birthday. Funny, he just happened to be on my mind.

I caught part of Dirty Dancing on TV yesterday. For those of us chicks who like the movie, we can pretty much count on finding it somewhere on cable at least once a month. I rarely see it from beginning to end, but if I can just sit down and watch it for 15 minutes, I can get my fix.

So they said that Patrick is 56 today. 56! Now, before you go thinking I have this thing for older men (i.e. Erik Estrada, Henry Winkler, etc), it just happens that Mr. Swayze was my first brush with fame. Well almost.

In 1995, I moved to Wisconsin Rapids to work at the daily newspaper. One day in December, someone called the office and said, "Did you hear Patrick Swayze was in town?!" The managing editor asked if I wanted to cover the story. Are you kidding me? I eeked out a hyperventilated "Yes!"

As it happened, by the time the tip had been called in, the hip-swiveling star was already on his plane back to California. So it was one of those after-the-fact stories the readers of a small-town paper like to read about -- even if we clearly missed the boat. (It was my first story to make the national wire, though, so I had that small victory to hang my dancing shoes on!)

I did uncover that the reason he was in town was to see his orthopaedic surgeon, who'd recently moved to the area from California as well. I had a good interview with the doctor, who told about me about Patrick's bad knees -- due to dancing on Broadway, etc, not just on the Big Screen. The good doctor felt badly that I missed the story but promised that the next time Patrick was in town, he's call me and I'd get the interview.

For months I waited for that call. I mean, shouldn't you try to see your knee surgeon on a regular basis? As my luck (or very bad luck) would have it, during that same time frame, HIPPA regulations went into effect. Those are the federal privacy rules that say our doctors can't tell anyone who they are treating and why -- and they certainly can't tell a star-struck reporter that her heart throb is in town.

Dang! I imagine by now he's got his own local doctors so I can't expect to see him sashaying down the streets of Rapids anytime soon (make that, never!). But you never know. Stranger things have happened to me and my quest to meet the stars -- let alone dance with them or snuggle with them.

Happy birthday, Johnny Castle!