I love Latina women
Veteran
great read 
It was 2006 when I met Mickey Rourke. I had friends in the professional wrestling industry and I would occasionally hang out with them at their shows. This particular time, we were in South Philadelphia, and I remember smoking a cigarette in the rear parking lot when a black, stretch limo pulled up. Limousines never pulled up to these kind of underground wrestling events, so I paid close attention to the person emerging from one of the passenger doors, figuring it would be some kind of wrestling star.
I was surprised when a man of medium build and height sauntered out of the vehicle. No entourage. No bodyguards. Not even someone to open his door. As this person came closer to the back entrance of the building, I suddenly realized who it was: Mickey F*cking Rourke. No one else around me even knew who he was, so I quietly held my glee inside.
When I took my seat backstage for the show, as I usually did, I looked to my left: there he was, quietly studying the action. I tried my best not to scream out like a teenage girl at a One Direction concert. I waited for a lull in the action during the main event to lean over to him and say, “Mickey, I’m a huge fan. I love your work.”
“Thanks, brother,” he said. It was perfect.
Immediately, I began thinking. What in the hell was he doing here? Where was he going? How did he end up in the slums of South Philadelphia after winning the hearts of every woman in the world during the 80s? Also, what happened to his face?
The Storm Before The Storm
In the latter half of the 70s, after spending much of his youth boxing in Miami, Rourke surprised his peers when he auditioned for the prestigious Actors Studio in New York, where Elia Kazan was purported to have said “it was the best audition in 30 years.” He would study at the studio with the likes of Al Pacino, Christopher Walken and Harvey Keitel.
First gaining notoriety in Lawrence Kasdan’s Body Heat, Rourke continued to string together a succession of mighty performances in films like Diner, The Pope of Greenwich Village, Rumble Fish, Angel Heart and Barfly.
Even though Rourke was gaining recognition, he was also known as a “loose cannon.” He did things “his way” on the set, and there were no two ways about it. It was during the filming of Angel Heart that director Alan Parker revealed just how insane Mickey was.
"Working with Mickey is a nightmare. He is very dangerous on the set because you never know what he is going to do."
Mickey was steadily losing control. He was drinking excessively. He was fighting on the streets. He had alleged ties to mobsters and biker gangs. He threatened film magnate Sam Goldwyn Jr. And, he was spending his Hollywood fortune faster than he could make it.
"I bought six Cadillacs with cash and gave them away. In 1986 I paid $97,000 for a car that had belonged to the Shah of Iran. It had been his desert car and was bulletproof, so it was really heavy and couldn’t even make it up to my house in the Hollywood Hills. Then one day the hydraulic windows stopped working, so I sold it for $20,000. I owned it for two months and drove it five times. That’s about $20,000 a drive."
It was 2006 when I met Mickey Rourke. I had friends in the professional wrestling industry and I would occasionally hang out with them at their shows. This particular time, we were in South Philadelphia, and I remember smoking a cigarette in the rear parking lot when a black, stretch limo pulled up. Limousines never pulled up to these kind of underground wrestling events, so I paid close attention to the person emerging from one of the passenger doors, figuring it would be some kind of wrestling star.
I was surprised when a man of medium build and height sauntered out of the vehicle. No entourage. No bodyguards. Not even someone to open his door. As this person came closer to the back entrance of the building, I suddenly realized who it was: Mickey F*cking Rourke. No one else around me even knew who he was, so I quietly held my glee inside.
When I took my seat backstage for the show, as I usually did, I looked to my left: there he was, quietly studying the action. I tried my best not to scream out like a teenage girl at a One Direction concert. I waited for a lull in the action during the main event to lean over to him and say, “Mickey, I’m a huge fan. I love your work.”
“Thanks, brother,” he said. It was perfect.
Immediately, I began thinking. What in the hell was he doing here? Where was he going? How did he end up in the slums of South Philadelphia after winning the hearts of every woman in the world during the 80s? Also, what happened to his face?
The Storm Before The Storm
In the latter half of the 70s, after spending much of his youth boxing in Miami, Rourke surprised his peers when he auditioned for the prestigious Actors Studio in New York, where Elia Kazan was purported to have said “it was the best audition in 30 years.” He would study at the studio with the likes of Al Pacino, Christopher Walken and Harvey Keitel.
First gaining notoriety in Lawrence Kasdan’s Body Heat, Rourke continued to string together a succession of mighty performances in films like Diner, The Pope of Greenwich Village, Rumble Fish, Angel Heart and Barfly.
Even though Rourke was gaining recognition, he was also known as a “loose cannon.” He did things “his way” on the set, and there were no two ways about it. It was during the filming of Angel Heart that director Alan Parker revealed just how insane Mickey was.
"Working with Mickey is a nightmare. He is very dangerous on the set because you never know what he is going to do."
Mickey was steadily losing control. He was drinking excessively. He was fighting on the streets. He had alleged ties to mobsters and biker gangs. He threatened film magnate Sam Goldwyn Jr. And, he was spending his Hollywood fortune faster than he could make it.
"I bought six Cadillacs with cash and gave them away. In 1986 I paid $97,000 for a car that had belonged to the Shah of Iran. It had been his desert car and was bulletproof, so it was really heavy and couldn’t even make it up to my house in the Hollywood Hills. Then one day the hydraulic windows stopped working, so I sold it for $20,000. I owned it for two months and drove it five times. That’s about $20,000 a drive."
about it so they gave it to Sean Penn for Milk.
