It’s been that sort of a mean and insane day (well, one of too many to count), but let’s skim to the memory bank, happier times wing for a spell. I actually have three Stan Lee stories, but two of them are less “stories” and more “sightings” in that sort of “Hey, is that Stan Lee?” followed by someone saying “No it’s not… wait a minute… Oh yeah! It’s Stan Lee!” followed by a “Hi, Stan!” if he was within a few feet inside not quite yelling distance. Boring, mundane, nothing special, THE END.
Now, the third Stan Lee story isn’t mine at all, actually. It was told to me maybe 25 years ago by a friend of a friend and it struck me as a pretty amusing anecdote about Lee being the biggest of people in the smallest of spaces.
Anyway, back around 1982 or ’83 (although one retelling noted this may have happened in 1981, but I doubt that because that was the year Lee moved to California), the FoF was attending a comic convention where he’d heard rumors of Stan making an appearance at some point. He was sharing a hotel room with six other people and on the second day, he and five of the roomies decided to crawl out of bed after a night of partying for an early breakfast before the con got underway. The seventh person was a heavy sleeper, so it was decided that someone in the breakfast club would get something to go for Snoozy McBoozy to nosh on.