Are celebrities better than the average human?  My thoughts are a resounding no.  However, I’m in the minority.  The other night, I had the wonderful surprise of friends popping into the city to have dinner with me.  It was a ‘spur of the moment’ idea, so it was after 10:00pm before they arrived, parked the car and we hit the streets to figure out where we were going to dine.  Thai cuisine was the restaurant of choice that night.  Most of the restaurants in New York are small and more like having dinner as a community as opposed to a quiet dinner with friends.  So as my friend and I sat chatting and enjoying ourselves, we noticed a woman walk in alone and sit down at the table directly beside us.  Being that the restaurant is so small, it was as if she had sat at our table.

Have you ever noticed a person at a restaurant eating alone?  At the bar, it’s not as noticeable as at a table, where they look lonely and isolated.  Being that we are both from the Midwest originally, we can’t handle anyone looking alone and isolated, so my friend started talking to the woman.  Before long, the three of us were in what we thought was an innocent conversation.  We were asking the typical questions, “Do you live in New York?”—“Do you live in this area?”—you know what I’m talking about, just average questions.  It was by all accounts a normal conversation.  She stated that she not only lived in the area, but she named my building!  Being the naive New Yorker, and thinking maybe I had finally found a potential friend, I excitedly replied that is my building too and what floor did she live on.  That was when the conversation took a turn.  She looked at me as though I had three heads and replied she lived on the 14th floor.  No one lives on the 14th floor as those are the model apartments at this point.  I had no idea what had just transpired, except that this person did not live on the 14th floor.  I went back to eating my dinner as I was finished with the conversation.  My friend however, kept asking questions. 

I heard “What do you do for a living in New York?”  To which she replied, “I’m an actress!”  No one at my table had a clue who she was.  We looked at each other as if to say, “really?!”  The next question my friend asked, “Have you been in anything that we know?”  Although it was an innocent question, it was apparently an insult to this woman.  She immediately started shrieking at us, “you should know what I’ve been in, I’m a famous actress!”  I was apparently not having the reaction that she wanted, as she turned to me and stated, “you know who I am as you were trying to figure out how to stalk me!”  Excuse me? 

I looked up at her and asked how she came to the conclusion that I wanted to “stalk” her.  To which she immediately replied, “You asked what floor I lived on!”  Apparently in New York, if you happen to be speaking to someone that thinks they have celebrity status, and you ask them anything about where they reside, you’re stalking them.  That’s a handy bit of information to have! 

We rushed to finish our dinner and vacate the restaurant.  Only in New York could you be accosted by an “actress”. 

Three days later, I was sitting in the lobby finishing up a phone call before I entered into the elevator, when my eyes locked with a woman walking across the lobby in my direction.  It was the “actress”.  The one that was so famous no one knew who she was and still doesn’t.  She was in a mini sheath dress and stilettos.  As our eyes locked, she immediately developed an attitude and began to strut across the lobby.  As she walked by me, her heel caught on a decorative rug just before the door and she went flying to the floor.  Her arms flailing—shoe flying off—dress flying up—she hit the floor with a loud noise and landed at the feet of the doorman.  As she looked up at me I thought to myself, “You’re definitely famous now!”

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