A major source of cool when walking around Manhattan is the celebrity sighting. It ranges from, “I know that woman’s face; now who the hell is she?” to “Hey, there’s the guy who co-starred with Tom Hanks in Bosom Buddies back in the 80’s,” to “Holy shit, it’s Cher getting out of that taxi. I thought she was taller. Maybe without all the feathers…”
If anyone truly well-known passes your field of vision, you can bet the German tourists in their giant leather sandals and gold-prospecting cargo shorts have spotted them also, and then you have to decide which show to watch: the celebrity or the gawkers. Fortunately, we New Yorkers are trained to think on our feet.
Daughter lives in the city so it’s no big deal for her to pass famous faces on a regular basis. She only reports to me on her/our favorites or extremely amusing stories. Like when a bicyclist screeched to a halt inches from the bench she was sitting on in Madison Square Park and she looked up to yell, “Hey, watch it!” only to see Owen Wilson scratching his nuts.
Or when a woman and her two children shared a pole with her on the subway and she got to listen to Cynthia Nixon from Sex and the City question her kids about their day at school. Daughter reported it sounded much like she remembers me sounding in her own childhood. I wasn’t surprised. In the grand television series of life, mothers all read from the same script.
I’m in the city often now, so my stargazing quotient has risen dramatically. On a corner of Broadway the other day, I passed an entourage filming a familiar blonde infotainment anchor whose voice is unmistakable, but whose name I’ve never committed to memory. It was very hot and she was in a tight blue dress reporting the latest on the custody issues surrounding Michael Jackson’s doomed kids. She had one assistant handing her a water bottle, followed by another assistant handing her a lipstick to be reapplied after the water bottle. The second the camera stopped rolling, the blonde anchor held her hand out for each of them in succession, like a surgeon waiting for instruments. Except she probably makes more money.
In a Times Square Starbucks, I was waiting to use the rest room when I noticed a guy on the coffee line was Jim True-Frost, an actor from one of my favorite shows, The Wire. He played troubled Detective Pryzbylewski who found redemption in Season 4 as a schoolteacher. The young guy on line behind him spotted him also and started looking around for confirmation. His eyes came to rest on me and I nodded my head yes, it was Prez. The guy furtively snapped Prez’s photo with his cell phone and then started tweeting all his twits. On my way out, I tapped the actor’s sleeve and told him he was terrific in The Wire and I really enjoyed watching him. He was genuinely pleased I stopped to tell him. I had to. I don’t tweet.
Then on a crosstown bus the next day, a scruffy middle-aged man with a folded stroller and an adorable toddler sat down across from me. I immediately recognized him from his recurrent role as a pedophile on Law & Order: SVU. Since I couldn’t recall anything else I’d seen him in, I decided it would be unseemly to compliment him on being a superb pervert. Instead, I just smiled and said, “Cute kid.” “Thanks,” he said, with a big, creepy grin.
Let’s leave the city and travel to Budapest via Cousin’s Photos from his recent trip
Buda Castle
Chain Bridge
Statue of Liberty
Parliament
Chain Bridge at night