We continued this discourse for the next five or ten minutes. He talking to an “empty” and dark apartment, through a tiny peepholed door, and me finding my best fetal position under the lowest desk—I figured if he got in he certainly wouldn’t bend over to find me. We came to the “understanding” that I was in fact being given one more chance to live up to the whims of a man who builds expectations from the fancies of his day. If I did not post something before he returned to the West Coast then I would in fact suffer the wrath of one thousand lashings—in other words he would tie me to a chair and finally make me watch Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I turned on the light as his rental car pulled out of the parking lot. The horn blasted as if he knew.

Andy and Vogel (Michael Byrne)

An interview (I think our first here at andypagana.com).

I had no tape recorder so here is approximately what transpired. (There is some swearing. Sorry) We spent about forty minutes together sitting in a corner of a hotel lobby, near that building from ‘Die Hard’. Here are the highlights. The rest will be printed in my autobiography when I get to it…

Andy: Michael, I am a huge fan of yours, too! You are one of my most favorite badguys. Do you know Peter O’Toole?

Michael: I was in Rome once. Years ago. I had done  some work with him before. I had a phone call. The voice on the other end of the phone said “Michael, have you read the bloody play yet?” “Who is this?” I said. “It’s Peter Peter Fucking O’Toole, you cunt”

Andy: What the fuck happened with Indy 4? 

Michael: (Censored)

Andy: Do you remember me? I saw Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade 8 times in the theatre.

Michael: It doesn’t work that way. You can see me but I can’t see you.

Andy: Pff. Did it hurt when you went off the cliff on the tank?

Michael: No. That was a special effect.

Andy: So… it didn’t hurt? It looked like it hurt.

Michael: It didn’t.

Andy: And I notice that you hold onto the turret even after you have crashed. How did you do that?

Michael: It wasn’t me. It was a miniature of me.

Andy: Wow. Well, it looked like it hurt. Did you have on knee pads or something?

Michael: I wasn’t really there.

Andy: Did Harrison Ford get mad when you punched him and then shoved his face on the tank’s tread? 

Michael: It was acting.

Andy: Are you sure? Because he looked mad.

Michael: I’m sure.

Andy: When Indy was hanging from the tank gun why didn’t you just shoot him? Why hit him with a shovel?

Michael: I did what I was told to do.

Andy: Pfff. Nazis. Always the same excuse. Well, I don’t know how you survived the fall but it was a great stunt. How did you not hit your head on the camera as you fell towards it, screaming? 

Michael: (sigh) I got lucky I suppose.

Andy: You want a cup of coffee?

Michael: No, I’m drinking wine, thank you. I shouldn’t be drinking this. I’m tired. I just got off the plane. I hate flying. 

Andy: Me too. I drove across the country 10 times.

Michael: You guys use planes here like we use cars.

Andy: ‘We’ meaning Nazi’s looking for the Holy Grail?

Michael: The biritsh.

Andy: Were you born there?

Michael: No. Scotland. (or did he say Ireland? Damn it!)

pause

Michael: Who let you in here?

Andy: Schwartzy did. That little guy over there. He saw you and told me you were here and I knew you would want to meet me. Lets take a picture. (Calls out) Schwartzy!!!

(Old fashioned flashbulb pops)

Andy: It was a pleasure to meet me. Thanks so much, Michael. How do you say goodbye in Germany, again? (I wanted to tell him here he had the most amazing blue eyes but I lost my courage.)