Years ago, I honestly can't remember how many, I filled in one day for a vacationing Spokane morning radio team.
The show's producer made it easy. I had fun. And it went OK.
The fact that I was never invited back can be attributed, I believe, to an incident in a sports arena men's room in Oakland some time later.
The two radio guys, whom I had never actually met, were there for an NCAA tournament game. They happened to be in the restroom with their producer at the time I entered with an SR colleague.
The colleague in question did not like these two and had mentioned that fact several times. So when the opportunity to make small talk with them arose, I was a little less ebullient than I might have been if my co-worker hadn't been right there.
I'm not proud of being a tad frosty in that moment, but I understand why I was.
Anyway, back on the day of that guest-host radio shift, I conducted a few phoners with people I know. One was with Debra Wilde, still a TV anchor then.
I joked with her on the air that her no-holds-barred autobiography could be a best-seller in this town.
I wasn't really kidding.
Since that conversation, she has lived several more chapters — some sad, some funny, all readable.
Of course, the book's success would depend on her willingness to be brutally honest, settle scores, name names and recall favorite sweaters. And you certainly could not blame her if that didn't seem appealing.
But maybe she will consider it someday. After all, even if it might make her cringe, her publisher would have a field day with potential titles playing off her last name.