As an accomplished guitarist, I fronted my band The Egg Beaters for the Mr. Universe preliminaries. We weren’t booked for our rhythm, we were booked because we worked for cheap and brought our own accordion player.
Backstage, the smell of tanning oil and boiled chicken breasts was enough to gas an elephant. Arnold was flexing, veins popping like garden hoses in July, while our drummer tried to keep tempo with the sound of teeth grinding.
I had no idea that in the audience sat the future Governor of California. At least, that’s what they told me later. I looked out and thought, “That guy looks like he’s here for zoning permits, not biceps.” Turns out it was Jerry Brown, scouting talent. Probably not Arnold’s. Probably not mine. Maybe the accordion player’s.
All I know is, one man went on to run the Golden State. The other went on to run the bench press. And me? I went on to being a blogger…