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  • Paul Davidson

Regis Philbin Doesn’t Know Me

I can’t get over the fact that Regis Philbin doesn’t know me.

I once ran into Reege at the ABC commissary in New York City when I was there just prior to Consumer Joe hitting the shelves. I was waiting for my tuna melt and Reege just sauntered in there up to the counter where a styrofoam package was waiting for him.

I said, “Hey Regis.”

He said, “Hi there.”

I said, “Love your show, Reege.”

He said, “Thanks, what’s your name?”

I said, “Paul Davidson.”

He said, “You’re not getting the Caesar Salad, are you?”

I said, “No, tuna melt.”

He said, “Oh, good. Then you’ll live to see another day.”

I said, “Good to know.”

And he was off.

Yet, these days — every time I call him and write him letters and e-mail him and get my friends who work on the show to tell Regis that “the guy who ate the tuna melt says hi” I don’t really seem to get a response back from the guy. I know he’s got his hands full with Ripa these days, but c’mon Reege. We had a moment. We basically ate lunch together. And this is all the respect I get?

It would have been different, had we just met on the street somewhere and I had asked for his autograph and then gone on my merry way. This is the reality of TV stars. This is what they face on a daily basis. Such interaction is forgettable. But a commissary meeting that covered such topics as food poisoning and tuna melts and my name? Unforgiveable.

And so, I have begun the process of reintroducing my name to Regis Philbin with the help of my friend’s friend who works on Live with Regis and Kelly. Starting yesterday, I will be sending Regis a picture of me with the text “PAUL DAVIDSON” below the picture and a different food item that one includes when making a Ceasar Salad.

Yesterday, he got croutons.

Next week he’ll get romaine lettuce. Then comes grated cheese. Then he’ll get some grilled chicken. Then he’ll get tomato chunks. Before long, he will have all the ingredients needed for a Ceasar Salad and a slew of pictures of me. And if after that he doesn’t know or remember the time we’ve spent together, I will move on to Phase 2 of what I am calling the “Reintroduction to Regis via Salad Accessories via Me and My Picture and My Name.”

Oh, he’ll know me before Summer. Or he’ll know PAIN instead.

(Disclaimer: “Pain” does not mean pain in the traditional sense of the word. “Pain” does not refer to body harming events and does not represent a physical threat in any way. Here, “pain” refers to the emotional pain of not knowing someone who could have changed their life for the better. Here, “pain” refers to the lack of feeling a part of something bigger. Here, “pain” is not pain…but longing. FYI.)

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