Forgot to mention this little aspect of visiting the Big Apple. In 20 years of regular forays, I rarely get through a stay without spotting someone of note, so I won't try for a cumulative list. But hold that thought, because I also neglected this great yarn sighting:
It's Mountain Colors Bearfoot, in the Midnight Sapphire color. Ain't it delish? Em gifted me with that upon our meeting, a belated birthday present. What a treat! I believe I'll make myself a pair of socks for next winter!
Back to famous folk. No matter who or where, I've never gawked nor spoken. OK, I may have walked backwards for a few steps after Warhol passed me by. Those people deserve to enjoy their meal or shopping or the play as much as anyone of lesser notariety, undisturbed by pesky admirers. To go from Point A to Point B without being waylaid by strangers. That's cool. I'm cool. At least I was until Friday afternoon, when Murray Cook, Paul Field and an unidentified woman walked into Trattoria dell'Arte. That's Murray Wiggle to those of you who may have only a passing knowledge of the Aussie foursome known as The Wiggles.
I hyperventilated. I couldn't eat. I got up to survey the antipasti bar and sneak surreptitious glances at their table. I ordered wine and reminded my dad who the Wigglies, as he called them, were. I called the friend at home with whom we'd attended the Wiggles concert in November, just because she was the only person I could think of who'd appreciate what I was going through. Yes, I talked on my cell phone from a restaurant booth ~ how gauche! I ordered coffee, stalling our departure, but they outlasted us, and I behaved. I still can't get over how this particular sighting affected me. He's not even my favorite Wiggle!
Later that night, at post-theatre dinner: Alec Baldwin. Eh. He was looking kinda fat. Then in strolled Joel Grey, following his Wicked performance. I did not go over and remind him we'd met in Miami Beach a few years back. I was cool once more.