LOS ANGELES – I once unwittingly mocked a man, literally behind his back, in a most despicable way. I was humiliated, and can only imagine he was as well. This post is an attempt to explain my actions, and in so doing to offer my sincerest and most belated apology. It’s a little wordy, and may be best told live and in person, but I’m taking a crack at putting it down on pixels. If you don’t read the whole bloody thing (and I won’t blame you if you don’t), be sure to at least check out the California Canteen restaurant (scene of the incident), in the Cahuenga Pass, very near Universal City. It’s a great place to eat after you see The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien in person.

Think back to the late ’90s and imagine you are the great comedic actor, Wayne Knight. Newman from Seinfeld. You have achieved success in comedy, but you are also known as one of the detectives on the receiving end of the Sharon Stone leg-crossing upskirt shot from Basic Instinct, as one of the velociraptor victims in Jurassic Park, plus many other roles. Your successful run on Seinfeld has just ended, and you are on top of the world. Your future is very bright.

You’re having a lovely dinner at a nice restaurant with your lady friend/special lady. You reveal to her that there’s a break coming up in your schedule and you can in fact take that trip to Maui with her after all. Her mood brightens and that buoys your own mood, and THEN– some blowhard sitting behind you loudly sings out: “There’s that fat guy from Sein-feld!” (to the cadence and tune of the military marching song “I don’t know but I’ve been told…” You know, the one that always ends with “One, two, three, four; one two– THREE FOUR!”). Your lady consoles you, urging you not to confront the interloper. “Just let it go, Wayne.”

I am that blowhard-interloper.

About ten years ago, I met my friend, Kurt, for dinner one night after work. I was freelancing for NBC On-air Promotions at the time, and Kurt had just left NBC for someplace else. We gathered at the delicious and reasonably-priced California Canteen restaurant on Caheunga Blvd. West, at Barham Blvd. in the Cahuenga Pass. It’s roughly between Burbank and Universal City.

At some point during dinner, conversation naturally turned to the goings-on at NBC. Kurt was curious about his old workplace. I told him about a promo I was working on. It was for the May sweeps, and featured a funny song written by an NBC Promo Producer. Part of the promo and song was for the movie Jurassic Park, which was making its broadcast debut on NBC.

Nearly all of our conversation was conducted using our inside voices. Perfectly normal. “Yeah, Kurt, it’s a silly song, but has some funny moments. I did an effects shot using Newman from Seinfeld, except it’s from Jurassic Park. You know, the scene where it’s raining, he slips down a muddy hill and then he’s attacked by velociraptors.” I turned up my volume, singing: “There’s that fat guy from Sein-feld!” Ever so briefly, but loudly enough that people within a table or two of us in the uncrowded restaurant could easily hear me. Volume back down now: “You know, the usual stuff. So what have you been up to?”

We continued our dinner and conversation. When coffee arrived a short time later, I turned in my chair to face right (just to change positions and stretch my legs). In my peripheral field of vision I could now see the person sitting behind me, his back to mine. I can’t explain it, but alarms started going off. My spidey sense was tingling. It was almost like the Arnold POV shot in The Terminator, all bathed in red with call-outs identifying friend or foe. There was a call-out typing out in my mind, pointing to the man sitting behind me. WAYNE KN_…

I couldn’t see the person’s face, but I could tell it was a man. A large man. Was the call-out correct? Could it be? I stole a couple of slightly prolonged glances right at him, then turned around and leaned into Kurt, slightly panicked. “Is that Wayne Knight sitting behind me?” I was pointing at my chest, trying to gesture through myself. Kurt did a subtle, slow bob left and then right, looking around me.

Glumly: “Yes. Yes it is.”

Ooh boy. I didn’t know what to do. He must think I was mocking him. Should I acknowledge him and offer my sincerest apologies? Or should I just pretend the whole miserable thing didn’t happen? I chose the path of least resistance and did nothing. We slunk out of the restaurant a few minutes later. As a sad footnote, I realized the next day during work that the line I sang out wasn’t even correct. The correct line was “And there is that guy from Sein-feld!” Not even a mention of the word “fat”. Mr. Knight, I sincerely apologize. At least Larry David would understand.

Credits: This is a true story, except for my recreation of Mr. Knight’s side of the conversation (I didn’t actually hear any part of it). The base picture on the title graphic is my own photo of the Canteen, but of course it is heavily treated and doesn’t really look like an Arnold Terminator POV shot from the original movie, or a New Orleans bordello. The actual restaurant is warm and inviting, and can be found online at CaliforniaCanteen.com. It is my favorite restaurant in LA. Here it is on Google Maps.