Since I started working in Manhattan a few months ago, I was on the lookout for my first celebrity encounter. See Robin Williams a few feet away while filming a movie, doesn’t really count since he wasn’t out in the wild with us normal folks. I wanted to see a celeb au naturel.
My colleague told me, look when you least expect it. OK. I guess I don’t typically run in the kind of circles where I would actually expect to see a celebrity (such as the hottest clubs or prison), so that pretty much means I am constantly on the lookout. Not in a stalker-weirdo kind of way, I assure you. Really.
So imagine my delight when walking into the elevator of my office building, take out lunch in hand, I run into (almost literally) Alan Alda. You know! ALAN! Mr. Alda! Of M*A*S*H fame! Man, I loved that show, except for the awful laugh track. You know, this guy:
If you can believe it, and I am sure you can, upon entering the elevator, a fellow passenger says, “Hey! You’re that guy from M*A*S*H! Alan, errr…Mr. Alda just smiled weakly and said “yes.” I should have taken this cue (that’s actor speak for “sign” you know) that he wasn’t up for much conversation. But once everyone else had gotten off the elevator, and it was just me and the celeb, I felt compelled to say something…anything! So I said, in my most polite voice, “I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about this Broadway strike?” For those of you unaware, 27 shows are dark on Broadway due to a strike of the Stagehand Union. This is making my life (well, work-life) rather miserable right now. And Alan…err, Mr. Alda, must be a theatre going man, ney? A man who loves the stage and a man who is pining for the end of this truly ridiculous and rather petty argument. Right? His response:
“I don’t know anything about that.”
Huh. OK then.