answer:As told over three years ago here. How I met Mr. T. copy/paste: About 27 (30) years ago, I won a local radio station song contest and got a free trip to Jamaica for a week. About 30 people went on the trip with us and we stayed in a nice hotel in Kingston. A tourist party was planned on one of the mountain tops at some old temple. 20 school buses brought tourists from many other hotels and we had a huge *** Punch Bash. I got plastered drunk and was literally seeing double by the time I got my lobster dinner. Struggling to find a seat, I plundered through the crowd and saw an opening. Sitting down I splashed my plate all over the back of this huge black man. He turned around and yelled “What’s Up Suckah!”. It was Mr. T! And I was seeing two of him! “Whatcha thinkin’ Foo”! was all I heard before he picked me up and carried me outside and dumped me in the grass. The last I saw was him walking away trying not to curse. He didn’t curse, and I didn’t go back inside the temple. I was trashed, and thought it best to get back on my hotel bus and sleep it off until the party was over. The bus was locked, and for some stupid teenage reason, I thought I’d crawl under the rear axle and fall asleep. Surely I would hear the bus start up and catch a ride back. We were an hour away from our beach hotel and up on a mountaintop. I awoke staring at the stars. The temple empty and dark, all the buses were gone with every tourist. I can’t believe I didn’t get squashed by the buses leaving. I should have died on that mountain. Luckily the moon was full and I found my way to a road in the darkness. Only way to go was down. About fifteen minutes passed and a carload of stoned Jamaicans picked me up and drove me back to my hotel in Kingston. I never drank *** Punch or saw Mr. T ever again.