Foster Brooks

It was just by chance that I met Foster Brooks one evening. I had been working as a shuttle bus driver for a major rental car company located at McCarran Airport in Las Vegas. I was single at the time and had been introduced to a young lady who worked evenings in the airport terminal. I knew her name but had no phone number or address so I thought I would go over after work one day and see if I could find her. So I rode on one of the buses I normally drove and headed into the terminal.

The driver parked the bus and I stepped out on the curb. I stood and talked to the bus driver. It was one of of those unusual evenings at the Las Vegas airport. It was quiet. Seldom gets that quiet. Movement caught both of our eyes and as we looked toward the movement at the same time, the driver asked me, “Are you going to take the next bus or ride back on this one?” I said, “I will ride back with you.”

The movement that caught our eye was a man in a wheelchair being pushed toward us by a women. He asked, “So this must be the right bus to ride?” I said, “I just wanted to ride with you.” It was Foster Brooks and his wife Terri. I had always enjoyed his routine as a happy drunk. And I told him so using my best Foster Brooks impression. “You do that pretty good”, he said. “I have been a fan of yours for a very long time”, I replied. “My name is Foster, too” I said. “First or last?” “Last”, I said as we laughed. Terri, Foster's wife, said that very often when they were introduced it was, “This is Foster Brooks and his wife, Terri”. She said that most people would respond with a handshake and “Hello, Mrs. Foster”. We laughed again.

Foster Brooks the said, “I have a story to tell you. I have this polish friend. One day we were on our way to a meeting and he was driving. Everything was ok until we came to our first traffic light. It was red and he just drove right through it. It was all I could do to garb anything I could and hang on. I was speechless. I started thinking that maybe he just didn't notice the red light and that we had been lucky not to be hit. As we approached the next red light I figured he would stop and he barreled right through I. I grabbed the arm rests and shouted, 'Damn. That's two red lights you ran. Who taught you how to drive?' He said, 'My brother taught me. He is a good driver. Don't worry. Relax.' Well we drove on and I began to relax. As we approached the next intersection, the light was green so I was quite flabbergasted when he slammed on the brakes. 'Why in hell are you stopping? The light is green' , I yelled. My Polish friend turned to me and with a serious face said, 'My brother might be coming through.' I never would ride with him again.”

Well, we had arrived at the rental car company. We said our goodbyes and I thanked them for letting me intrude into their evening. Like he and his Polish friend, I never rode with them again. I know that there are both sides of the issue of the effects of alcohol. I know that losing a friend or relative to a drunk driver is catastrophic to those left behind. I have heard that Foster Brooks spoke very much against drinking and driving. I have also heard that he was not a drinker himself. It was his presentation that made him funny. And his passing leaves a hole that may never be filled again.