One of my favorite celebrity encounters happened when Kevin and I were in New York. We had ducked into a stationary shop to pick something up, and as we walked back outside, Kevin wasn't looking where he was going and almost ran into someone. "Watch out, Kev," I said. "Don't run over Ethan Hawke." He looked cold (Ethan Hawke, not Kevin).
And, my freshman year of college, I was running on the track with my roommate. This was right after the summer Olympics when the US women's gymnastics team had finally beaten the Russians to win the gold medal. My roommate and I started joking about Kerri Strug, who had injured herself in the course of competition that summer. I started fake limping as I was running and yelling something about Bela Karolyi. We were cracking up about this -- I think I even fell down, clutching my ankle, at one point. And then we heard someone running right behind us on the track. We sort of calmed down, and then Kerri Strug ran past. I knew she had enrolled at UCLA that fall, but I hadn't seen her at all before that moment, and actually never saw her again. I think that was for the best.
I'm a big jerk.
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