Almost 15 years ago, I met Henry Winkler. It happened during the Clinton inauguration in January 1993, my freshman year at George Washington University.

My roommate and I staked out a good spot on Pennsylvania Avenue hours before the motorcade arrived. Then, out of the blue, we noticed a group of people huddled together, making their way through the crowd. Of course, my roommate and I barreled in to set what all the fuss was about, and we immediately realized that it was because Winkler was at the center of the mass. The Fonz, himself, was leading his own, one-man impromptu parade through the streets of Washington, D.C.!

We didn't know what he was doing there, but we shoved our way in and spoke to the graying, soft-spoken legend. "Mr. Winkler," I said, "May I shake your hand?" To which he replied, "It's good to see you." My roommate simply said, "Ayyyy."

Totally lame, I know. But I was 18 and more than a little swept up in the events of the day. It proved to be my first of several ridiculous conversations with celebrities (I'll save my "conversation" with Hillary Clinton and Dennis Miller for another blog). And since my friends never let a good joke go, a handful of college buddies still occasionally greet me with, "It's good to see you," in that same sort of pseudo-caring tone that Winkler displayed than brisk January morning.

Fast forward to last week. During an otherwise typical conversation with my dad, he told me that he, too, ran into the Fonz. For him, it was in a hotel elevator in Canada, where both were staying during a business trip.

Apparently, my dad was wearing a name tag, because Winkler looked at him and said, "Hello, Larry." My dad replied, "Hello, Henry."

Then my dad uttered what Henry Winkler must hear all the time: "I live in Milwaukee."

Winkler replied, "I don't."

Unfortunately, my dad didn't know about the "Bronze the Fonz" plans (including the participation from OnMilwaukee.com), which could've made his conversation a little more lively.

But now both father and son have had their silly Henry Winkler memories, 15 years apart. I know we both wish we could get another crack at talking to the Fonz, but these opportunities don't come up all that often. Maybe when Winkler's statue is dedicated, I can try out something a little more refined. Or maybe, just because, I'll ask to shake his hand again, and walk away smiling like I did in 1993.