Archive for January 30th, 2007
Star Catching Volume One
For the second time in my New York pedestrian career, I nearly bowled over a person far more famous than me. The first one was a bit more important… I put a shoulder in Rudy Giuliani’s arm on the day of the 9/11 Wall Dedication.
For anyone who hasn’t heard this story, I had taken my cousin up to Grand Central Station so she could catch a shuttle bus out to JFK. Her flight was at 10:30 so we were up at 6:30 to get up there on time. After saying good by, I decided to walk home (Funny side-story, it was a Saturday during the World Cup, so at least five bars I passed were mobbed at 8 AM. Good times). Grand Central to my apartment is about four miles and it was a nice morning. After stopping for some breakfast and such (3 eggs, toast, OJ, homefries, sausage, and coffee for $2.50… I heart NY) I finished the walk home. There was a huge crowd in front of the Trade Center Site, so I crossed over to see what was going on. I couldn’t really tell, just that some areas were barricaded off. As I turned to leave, I ended up bumping directly into Giuliani (who’s way taller than I thought). It wasn’t hard enough to really stagger anyone, but enough to make a couple of burlier looking gentleman make uncomfortable steps toward me. I backed up, saw who I’d bumped into, said “oh sorry, man” and got out of his way. I’m pretty sure I was closer to death right there than I’d been at any point in my life.
So, today, I walked home from work. I enjoy walking home from work. It really only takes me about 25 minutes longer than taking the subway (after waiting and such) so I do it a couple times a week, specifically on nights where I end up working too late to go to the gym. Tonight, I had gotten to the corner of Houston (that’s How-stin, because NYers have to be different) and Thompson, and am about to head into the intersection when a short, portly dude with long hair and scruffy beard comes around the corner talking into a cell-phone. I don’t know what he was talking about but for purposes of my telling this story henceforth, it’s going to be about how he wrecked Iron Chef Cora, flourishing it with some crude joke about red snapper being the mystery ingredient. My story, my embellishments.
Mario Batali and I come about half a step from crashing into each other. I now have TWO Iron Chefs on my resume (I saw Bobby Flay sucking down a Starbucks on 23rd and 6th). As it usually goes for me in New York City, I paused, stepped around him, and continued on my way. I got about three steps further before realizing who it was. At that point I turned around, smirked, took a minute to wish that I actually had barreled into him as it would have made for a better story, and then continued home. It was too cold to contemplate further.
At some point, I should have posted about the night we saw Stiffler out and about in the Flatiron Club Scene, but it occurred on the night of a bachelor party. As any self-respecting man knows, bachelor party nights are wiped from the memory banks the morning after they occur. It’s safer that way.