The Lorenzo Lamas Stare Down

The day I became a man.

For those of you who don’t know who Lorenzo Lamas is, he broke into the industry as the cougar spank bank for a soap opera called Falcon’s Crest, which started before I was born and cancelled just in time for me not to acknowledge its existence. His most famous role was Reno Raines on the “crime drama” Renegade which you probably remember watching on the USA network when you stayed home sick from middle school. He’s tried reviving his career as an asshole on Are You Hot? pointing out cellulite with a laser pointer but for the most part he was out of my life. That is, until I saw him at Souplantation in Brentwood.

I was with my girlfriend and one of her friends she met at school in Illinois. I was cramming ranch dressing soaked iceberg lettuce and clam chowder in my mouth like Kim Kardashian on a dick bender (read: the weekend), until a dark figure caught the corner of my eye. There he was: Lorenzo Lamas no more than 50 feet away from me. Clad in all black and standing with his arms crossed, scanning the room for potential threats. I suspect he was watching over his harem of ridiculously hot daughters.

I shrugged it off and continued to scarf like a Jewish refugee on V-E Day until my girlfriend’s friend took notice and started to gush for 15 minutes about how she used to love Renegade. She asked if it would be appropriate to go up and ask him for his autograph. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and blurted out louder than I expected, “Who the fuck cares if it’s appropriate? It’s Lorenzo fucking Lamas.”

Uh Oh.

I knew he must have heard me. I was regretting looking up until I thought to myself, “Hey, listen to your own advice. Who the fuck cares? It’s Lorenzo Lamas.”

He was staring directly into my soul like St. Peter himself.

My first inclination was to look away, but no. Fuck that guy. Even if I never make it big, I’m still better than a soap opera star. So I stared back with the intensity of a coked out Robert Downey Jr. on the set of Less Than Zero. Our eyes were locked into a stare down the likes Souplantation has never and will never see again. It was picturesque, as time seemed to slow to a crawl and a bead of sweat dripped down my cheek like we were two gunslingers dueling at dawn. We were both completely motionless and speechless for what seemed like hours, but was only seconds.

Then all of a sudden, his youngest daughter came out of nowhere and blindsided him with a hug to the leg. He immediately tried to regain his dogging foothold, but the battle was lost and my eyes now silently gleamed with victory. He nodded ever so slightly, acknowledging my fortitude. We both eventually left the epic battleground that is The Souplantation, both having a little bit more respect for each other.

Also, I’m pretty sure I’m entitled to one of his daughters. Hopefully one birthed by Debbie Gibson.