Crazy-Pops

You know what freaks me out?  This:  The other day, I was with the G-Man and the Mixmaster at the ice rink at their skating lesson - more on that later.  And I was out on the ice with them and their cute instructor.  Okay, look, I'm a 41 year old graying flabby guy, and it's really okay if I find a hot 20 year old female college student on ice skates cute, alright?  I think that's one of Flod's "rules."  Anyhow, we were out there on the ice, and the boys were playing with hockey pucks, because the cute instructor wanted them to, and we were by the door where you enter the rink, and this guy looks in and says, "Hey, Jeff, it looks like you've got a couple of hockey players on your hands."  I look over and I swear I had (and still have) no idea who he was.  Yet he said my name.  Now I'm no celebrity - although I was once congratulated in an airport in Atlanta on an improv show I did the night before at a 3-day Atlanta tournament, which was very cool - so I check my clothes to see if I'm wearing a name tag.  Which I don't normally do.  Unless I'm at some engineering function or something.  So I look all over and, nope, all my clothes say is "Guiness," like the beer.  But he didn't call me "Guiness," he distinctly called me "Jeff;" I'm sure of that, because the two words aren't even close.  They don't even have the same number of syllables, so it'd be impossible to confuse them.  So, realizing that the guy must know me from somewhere, I make small talk with him.  "Oh, yeah, ha ha, I'm hoping I can retire on their NHL contracts, ha ha.  Daddy needs a new house."  Whatever.  Then he goes away and we keep skating and, after our 40 minute lesson is over and we're taking off our skates and helmets and gloves and kneepads, dude comes by and says, "See you later, Jeff."  "Uh, sure, guy.  See you at the next, um, function.  Yeah, that's it."  I felt like such an ass.  Because we all know that I'm going to run into this guy somewhere and he's going to be like the most important guy in my life at that particular time; like maybe he's a client that I forgot about or maybe he owns a theater or something.  And I'm going to want something from him, like a project or a place to perform, and I'm going to be highly embarrassed because he's going to say, "How are those hockey players doing, Jeff?"  And I'm not going to know that the hell he's talking about.