In college, people would line up at parties and say, “Tell me your Rob Lowe story.”

Okay—maybe not line up, but it was my thing.

Come to think of it, I’m kind of the queen of stand-in moments—celebrity encounters, mistaken identities, and starring roles I never quite landed.

This one? This was my meeting Rob Lowe story.
And somehow… I flubbed it.
Forgot the lines. Needed a body double.

I have no photo of Rob Lowe from that day.
No video. Just secondhand embarrassment.
Not even the pants.

But I do have a signed picture of Kevin Costner—never met him, but he signed something.
So… we’ll go with that.

Now that the proof is out of the way…

Consider yourself next in line.
Ready to hear my meeting Rob Lowe story?

It involved Rob Lowe, a pair of so-called lucky pants, and a lot of unplanned silence.

🎬 Setting the Scene

I’ve been thinking a lot about luck lately.

The things we wear, say, or carry—hoping they’ll bring us something magical. A moment. A win. A Rob Lowe.

Which brings me to my lucky pants.

I bought them specifically to meet Rob Lowe.

Not just see him. Not just to be in the same stadium.

No—I had a scheduled, prearranged, maybe-even-fate-approved moment to meet the one and only Rob Lowe.

And I was twenty.

Which meant there was no one in the world luckier than me.

I’m not twenty anymore.

But if I had to pick one story to tell, this would be the one. The funniest. The most me.

And the funniest part of all?

Rob Lowe is still a thing.

(With all the times I’ve told this story, that’s the newest cinematographic twist!)

And while I’m not telling it live (with a crowd huddled close, hanging on every word), just this once I’ll try to write it down.

(Though I still think it plays better live.)

🎬 Scene 1/The Setup: Rob Lowe, My Crush of Crushes

I grew up watching Rob Lowe in every Brat Pack movie that came out. The hair, the eyes, the everything. I had the kind of school-girl crush that felt like destiny.

At the time, I had a secret insider — one of the greatest sports directors out there, Sandy Grossman. A live TV legend who could’ve directed Hollywood blockbusters if he’d wanted.

He was the mastermind behind the pre-viewing and my dad’s friend who set up my actual meeting with my twenties crush of all crushes, Rob Lowe.

It felt like the stars had aligned.

The stars—both galactic and the movie kind.

This wasn’t a chance encounter, but a Hollywood crush, a secret mission, and a production truck all ready to collide.

🎬 Scene 2: The Lucky Pants

Naturally, I bought an outfit specifically for the occasion.
I wanted to look the part—cool, cute, confident.

These were my lucky pants.

I don’t even remember exactly what they looked like—okay, they were awkward light cotton, cropped just a bit. We called them “floods.” But I believed in them.

Yes, these pants—the “floods”—were going to deliver the dream.

I didn’t have a costume designer, mind you.

Just my gut instinct and a pair of pants calling my name.

What didn’t I plan well? What I was going to say.

And as it turns out, that was another miscalculation.

🎬 Scene 3: The Truck

The meeting would take place outside the production truck—the truck.

If you’ve never been in one, it’s like entering NASA. Dimly lit, screens everywhere, numbered feeds for every cameraman.

The whole thing feels like you’re swimming inside an aquarium made of light and buttons.

It’s mesmerizing even when no one’s there.

But when things start happening—when the buttons start flying and the cameras start switching—it’s electric.

I was already in the truck, waiting, because Sandy had worked everything out.

Rob Lowe was at the game with his brother Chad (not yet famous), and he had a special invitation to visit the truck.

Translation, in stand-in double talk:

He was coming to meet me.

🎬 Scene 4: The Distraction

Before he came, Sandy gave me a gift: a personal Rob Lowe viewing party.

During the National Anthem, which the production truck doesn’t care about, Sandy turned off the volume and put every camera on Rob Lowe.

While the stadium paid tribute to our nation, I stood inside the truck in silent devotion…to Rob Lowe.

I watched every second of him standing there in his sunglasses, stoic and beautiful.

Every camera tracked his descent down the stairs. Though it had to be dark behind those lenses, he didn’t miss a step.

When one angle lost him, another picked him up.

I had a full minute and a half of Rob Lowe—just Rob Lowe—on screen.

Then… he disappeared into the tunnel.

Lights. Camera. Action.

🎬 Scene 5: The Unlucky Pants – The Betrayal

With my heart pounding, I stood in the truck, watching the screen go dark after Rob Lowe disappeared into the tunnel.

It was time.

All I had to do was open the door and walk—gracefully, ever so nonchalantly—down the stairs to meet him.

But they were stairs.

And navigating them with a racing heart was already a challenge.

That’s when it happened.

Mid-walk, my lucky pants got stuck around my calf.

Full public betrayal.

Nothing could be worse—except maybe losing them entirely.

A model would have kept walking.

Glided down those stairs, in stilettos, without a twitch, even as the pants silently strangled her leg.

But I am no model. I have no such training.

So I did the worst thing you can do in a moment like that:

I yanked. Fumbled. Walked while actively wrestling with fabric.

And, yes, people waited in line to hear this story:

That’s how my “floods” rose to the occasion…of my meeting Rob Lowe story.

Maybe I needed sunglasses not to see that Rob Lowe was right there, tracking my every move.

(Though with his dark shades, who knows what he was looking at? Honestly, I’d be watching the stair-walking-pant-wrestler, too.)

Call it what you will.

I call it betrayal of the worst kind.

🎬 Scene 6: The Meeting (a.k.a. The Flop)

In my crouched position, I had to look up to him, and he wasn’t tall to begin with.

The heart-throb himself with sunglasses to protect me from seeing his eyes.

His eyes!

That was the best part of Rob Lowe!

What was even the point of this meeting?

I made a fool of myself, and I never got to see his eyes.

Honestly, it could’ve been a decoy if he weren’t so short.

He said, “So how about that National Anthem? It was great, right?”

And I—having just spent the entire anthem watching him (who knew if there even was one?)—said, “Yeah, it was great.”

He smiled politely. Then: “The truck seems cool. I can’t wait to see it.”

Me: “Yeah, it’s great.”

That was all I had. My brain just… shut down.

I couldn’t even form a sentence.

All I could do was nod politely

So I turned away and started talking to Chad, who, at the time, wasn’t famous and therefore not intimidating.

We had a perfectly normal conversation (when I stopped nodding.)

I even explained my schoolgirl crush on his brother and the lengths I went to to have it end like this.

He nodded politely. He probably heard it all the time.

Then Rob came back into the circle and—yep—I stiffened right back up, and started nodding again.

It was unnerving not to see his eyes. Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it wasn’t my pants at all.

That’s all I had—without someone to feed me my lines.

🎬 Scene 7: The Rob Lowe Legend Lives

Looking back, I should have prepared better.

Memorized a line. A question. Anything.

Or hired a body double.

But no.

I spent all my planning energy on my pants.

And those “floods”, as it turns out, didn’t just prepare me for a disaster.

Probably not the lasting impression I meant to leave on Rob and Chad Lowe.

But–not for nothing–only Sandra Bullock could’ve pulled off an entrance like that.

(And I only had a sports director and a lame script.)

And for the record:

I can neither confirm nor deny that any of it.

(I never even saw Rob Lowe’s eyes.)

🎬  It’s A Wrap

Maybe lucky pants don’t always work.

Maybe they aren’t actually lucky at all.

But here’s my thing:

They gave me this story.

And that’s the kind of luck I’ll take any day.

🎬  Wrap-Up

I know it’s not the most verifiable story.

No receipts or ticket stubs. No proof that the game existed.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

As for the unlucky pants? Let’s say–they got greased. I threw them out before the day was done.

🎬 🎉 Wrap Party

(Or as we like to say outside the movie biz, rap party. No director. Just bloopers.)

Got a funny “stand-in” moment of your own? I’d love to hear it — don’t leave me stuck again.

And, if you can’t get enough of these stand-in moments?

Let me introduce you to Dave Boreanaz.

That story’s one for the stage.