The year was 1994, exactly 1 week before I blew my ACL, MCL, and fractured the growth plates in my right knee on kick coverage (which shut down my football career at the age of 14).
My friend and I were at Great America- Santa Clara, CA.
We found a short ride line and decided to jump on it. This one guy, who wasn’t in line, was saying that Joe Montana was on the crappy ride. After a closer look, it was Joe Freakin’ Montana. The ride ended and Montana walked off with his family. Did I stay and ride that thing? Hell no. I followed Montana.
After his kids riding a couple kiddie rides, his super hot wife stopped to go to the bathroom. I thought that this was my chance to piss real quick.
Here’s where the story gets messed up.
After I did my thing at the urinal, I turned around.
Cant remember his name at the moment, but Montana’s son (a top college QB prospect right now) was running around with his pants down.
I look up and standing behind me to use the urinal I just used was Joe Montana.
Being star struck, I say "Can I shake your hand?"
And he says "No. Not after you just went to the bathroom". The 40+ people that followed him in there all laughed at me. I walked to the sink in shame and washed my hands.
I hate Joe Montana.
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