Wednesday Night Stories: Sammy Stephens

Scroll on down and watch the video from last week's post.

Do it.

The man in that video is named Sammy Stephens. And I have met that man.

In late 2006, Sammy became an internet sensation for the homemade rap/dance commercial promoting his Flea Market Montgomery, which happens to be just like a mini-mall.

For Spring Break 2007, I and about 70 others were headed down to Florida for a conference via bus and on the route down we went right through the heart of Montgomery, Alabama, which got my friend Mike and I thinking.

. . . we would take the same route home.

. . . a mecca like Flea Market Montgomery had to be located near the interstate.

. . . a showman like Sammy Stephens had to welcome visitors.

So, we found the store website and called them up. We were shocked to talk to a real person on the other end who used the phrase, "Sammy loves to meet his fans and new friends."

Whoa, I was planning on a meet and greet, not a friendship. This was serious. What would we talk about? Living rooms? Bedrooms? Perhaps, even dinettes? I could only dream.

So, the next step was for Mike and I to win the support of the other 70 people and put it to a vote, since hijacking a bus to visit an internet "star" without consent seemed just wrong, but after Mike made a presentation where basically, voting "no" meant you hated fun, joy, love, and comedy, we had a unanimous vote in favor of a brief hour-long to visit to Flea Market Montgomery.

So, on the way home, Mike and I took the bus microphone and led a 15 minute Sammy-troduction, introducing rules such as "Please do not touch Mr. Stephens." Around lunchtime our bus pulled into the parking lot (it was indeed right off the interstate).

We had no idea what we were walking in to.

The 70 of us, huddled together and shuffled into

the store. A little nervous, with no idea what to expect. We got inside. We saw living rooms, bedrooms, no visible dinettes, but there was a sign with that famous slogan.

But, no Sammy.

Nowhere.

No Sammy to be seen.

NONE!

I started to get worried, but then I heard a joyous, ear-sweetening sound from above and on a balcony that I swear wasn't there 30 seconds before appeared the man, the legend, the bulging eyes: Sammy Stephens.

And he was dancing and singing, but of course, you couldn't hear it because like pre-teens at a 3D Bieber movie, we were all screaming with delight.

After his megastar entrance, Sammy came down to the level of us mere mortals and gave us a tour of the store (then we saw the dinettes!).

And after that, he asked us if we'd eaten lunch yet!? And then asked if he could come with! So, there we were walking down the side of the road with Sammy Stephens!

But after lunch things started to get suspicious. We were all thrilled to take pictures with him, but after the individual pictures and the 3rd group picture we were ready to get back on the road, after all we still had a solid 17 hours of driving.

Every few minutes Sammy would get a phone call and from the calls we pieced together that he was waiting on a 2nd TV crew (there was already a newspaper writer and one TV cameraman there).

Soon, it became painfully obvious that he was trying to stall us . . . even to prevent us from leaving his property.

Mr. Stephens became increasingly desperate.

Even after we had said goodbye and boarded the bus, he climbed on board and stood in the aisle singing his suddenly irritating rap. And it got ugly, from somewhere in the back someone yelled, "Go away!" and pretty soon Sammy caught the many, many hints and sacrificed that extra bit of publicity in the name of not being physically removed from our bus (or transported to Wisconsin).

So Sammy departed. And Mike and I offered a public apology for Sammy's behavior and promised to not speak of it or sing the song for the rest of the trip.

But time can heal those wounds and now, I am proud to invite you to go see the spectacle if you're ever on I-65. But don't call first or he'll alert the media.