three random encounters yesterday:
first, waiting for the elevator at my office building. a well-dressed 30-something african-american woman looking disgusted informed me, “new yorkers are fucking crazy.”
why?, i asked.
“they’re just crazy, fucking crazy. why would some guy pull an emergency brake on a train? and then sit there? we’d all have to sit there for thirty minutes until the police came? they’re even starting an investigation.”
i agreed that it was crazy, and she said nothing more to me until we parted ways.
second, walking down 8th avenue toward the post office. a well-dressed 30-something african-american man walked up to me with his hand extended, “hi miss-in-a-leather-skirt. i’m doing a promotion for women in leather skirts today …” by that point i had moved out of earshot.
third, walking out of my office and into the lobby, where sat a well-dressed 20-something white female. she glanced at me, i glanced at her. i thought, It’s that chick from dawson’s creek! what the hell is her name?
she must have thought, who is that attractive young female in the leather skirt, and why isn’t she asking for my autograph?
the next time i see a katie holmes-level famous person, i’m going to go up to them, whether i can place them or not, and say, Wow, i can’t believe it’s you! i loved you in wonder boys. just to be safe.