Yesterday afternoon, while walking down one of Penn Station’s many cramped stairways, I heard a familiar girl-voice to my left.
“Man, but that guy was such a creep!” she was saying to a friend.
I turned to look and there she was: The West Wing’s youngest and most beloved presidential daughter, Ms. Zoey Bartlet, herself.
Now I realize this isn’t all that special. In New York, one Celebrity Sighting sells for approximately 0.8333 of a penny.
But what was funny about this particular celebrisighting is this: upon seeing the young woman whose name I now know to be Ms. Elisabeth Moss, I immediately stopped in the middle of the stairwell and desperately looked all around for the team of Secret Service Agents I knew would be following her.
There weren’t any.
I realize now that the dramatic fourth season cliffhanger finale involving Zoey’s being kidnapped and possibly killed by terrorists also didn’t help much. For a moment, I believed I had actually found poor Zoey safe and alive, and would surely be honored and thanked by the entire White House staff, and possibly President Bartlet himself.
Oh, how we dance between fantasy and reality.
For the record, in the past couple of months I’ve also seen her, him, him, her, him, and this guy.
And, in case you were wondering, that’s worth exactly five cents.
Monday, June 27, 2005
This Post Contains One Belabored Dime-A-Dozen Joke
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4 comments:
I had almost the exact same fiction/reality confusion with Michelle "Ice Princess" Trachtenburg.
Several years ago, I watched the second to last episode of the 5th season of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," which ends with Ms. Trachtenburg's character trapped and possibly about to be killed, right before going to sleep.
I then woke up four hours later, bleary-eyed and tired, headed to the airport, and immediately bumped into Michelle Trachtenburg.
It was only my natural inclination to never talk to anybody that stopped me from asking how she escaped the evil Glory.
And then I fantasized for the next two hours that we'd be taking the same plane flight, become friends, and then she'd show me around the Buffy set.
That didn't happen, btw.
Two weeks ago, I ran into Bam Margera in the bathroom of the W Hotel. I asked where Don Vito was, expecting him to laugh and not answer. He said something like, "He's on his way; he's comin' in tomorrow."
That was cool. Bam was cool. I met someone named Bam.
I must point out that Sidney Poitier hails from Cat Island. Which I imagine as an island TEEMING with adorable cats and lots of clones of Sidney Poitier. I fricking wish.
Oh, and as for that last link, I can only say - har dee har (sob).
Upon further review, my Bam story's dull, self-indulgent and adds nothing to Chris' original theme/point. My apologies.
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