Surreal Celebrity Encounters

Here are some positive celeb stories for a change

I’m not too cool to enjoy a good celebrity sighting. Most of mine have been fun but uneventful experiences where no words were exchanged. Harrison Ford at the next table at a restaurant. Sean Connery at the U.S. Open. Al Pacino outside a Broadway theater.

But every once in a while, things turn from an idle sighting into an interesting story. After recently writing about a different theater incident—the chilling death stare I received from Brian Dennehy—I started thinking about other unusual run-ins I’ve had with famous people.

There’s been so much depressing news lately, both involving celebrities and not, that unlike the Dennehy dustup, I wanted to share some upbeat stories.

With the exception of the SNL adventure, all of these happened when I was in my teens or early twenties.

Cracklin’ Rosie

As a side gig when I was a young writer, I freelanced for the entertainment section of a local newspaper. One Halloween afternoon, my editor sent me to interview another young man, who was directing his second movie, set at the suburban Philadelphia private school he’d attended not too many years before.

The movie was called Wide Awake, and the filmmaker was M. Night Shyamalan, who was not yet a household name. Rosie O’Donnell was one of the stars, and in a haunting memory I’ve tried to block for years, she was dressed in character as a nun.

The crew was setting up an outdoor scene, and Rosie saw me coming across the grass, notebook in hand. She leaned over and whispered something to a woman sitting beside her. That woman got up and darted over, eager to inform me that Rosie would not be giving interviews, and that I was not to approach her.

I was a bit taken aback. I was doing a “local boy makes good” story, not an extensive profile in The New Yorker.

“I’m not here for Rosie,” I said. “I don’t want to interview her.”

Now the woman was taken aback. She returned to Rosie to give her the update.

I don’t know if she was relieved or upset that I was leaving her alone, but now Rosie wouldn’t leave me alone. She asked me my name, and the entire time I was there kept saying things like:

“Here comes reporter Chris!”

“Come sit here, reporter Chris!”

“What else have you written, reporter Chris?”

When Shyamalan was finally available, I broke away with, “Well, reporter Chris has to go do some reporting!”

In all honesty, she was very cool. I have nothing but positive feelings for Rosie. Except for her unleashing Exit to Eden on us and popularizing the phrase “cutie patootie,” obviously.

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A quick cameo

I worked at a hotel in college, and one night a musical act’s tour bus arrived, as scheduled. The driver asked me to temporarily keep the performer’s guitar case at the front desk. A little while later, in one of the most memorable moments of my life, I found myself handing Bo Diddley his guitar.

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Contact person

It was a first date, and the plan was to go to a movie, Contact, and then to dinner. Annie and I had met the week before at a party in Philly thrown by mutual friends, and had hit it off.

The movie was long, and we’d each murdered a bucket of soda, so Annie and I bolted to our respective restrooms as soon as the credits started rolling.

As I left the men’s room and started across the lobby, I saw a tall man with a familiar face heading in my direction.

It was David Morse, one of the stars of Contact. I thought maybe all that carbonation fried my synapses and I was hallucinating.

But it was in fact him, and he was right in front of me, looking me in the eye.

“What are you doing here?” I said, as if Davey and I were longtime pals. Even as it came out of my mouth, I knew it was an odd opening remark to make to a stranger.

He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “What’s your name?”

“Chris,” I said. “I was just watching you in Contact.”

I obviously looked confused, as if I’d time-traveled there from the Middle Ages, and didn’t understand how a man could have escaped the confines of the magic light on the giant sorcerer’s scroll.

He laughed a little and said, “Hi, Chris, I’m Dave.”

Dave explained that his wife was from the area, and that they came here often to visit his in-laws. He then asked what I did for a living and seemed genuinely engaged and interested, which was all the more impressive considering I wasn’t even that interested in what I did for a living. David Morse was far kinder to me than he needed to be.

He excused himself to go catch up with his wife, and it was only after he was out of sight that Annie came into view.

I told her what had just happened, but I sounded like Big Bird trying to convince everyone on Sesame Street that Snuffleupagus was real, and that they’d just missed him.

Annie and I had a few more dates but ultimately didn’t work out. But I’ll always cherish my special time with Dave.

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Sheedy delivery

Because I was a nerd, in the pre-cell-phone era I used to carry around a micro cassette recorder. It was convenient for capturing thoughts, but if I’m being honest, the real reason was probably because I loved Michael Keaton in Night Shift. (“Take live tuna fish, and feed 'em mayonnaise!”)

It was during this period that Ally Sheedy wrote a book of poetry. I don’t remember how I heard about her book signing, nor do I remember where it was, but my friend Bill and I decided to go because we were huge poetry fans.

Just kidding, we had nothing else to do and it was Ally Sheedy, man.

I bought her book and was waiting in line for her autograph when I had an idea.

“Hi,” I said, handing her the book.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

“I’m Chris. Could I ask you a quick favor?”

“What’s that?” she said, smiling.

I pulled out my tape recorder.

“Could I record you saying, ‘Hi, Chris, this is Ally Sheedy. I like your haircut, but for the last time, I won’t go out with you.’ ”

She laughed and said, “What? Okay!”

She asked me to repeat it, took a moment to get serious, and recorded it. I thanked her, and walked away.

As I was leaving, I heard her say to the person behind me, “That was so funny!”

I bet Judd Nelson never made her laugh.

(You can hear me say “Aw” before I clicked off the recorder. Acting!)

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A quick cameo

My brother got tickets to Saturday Night Live and my sister-in-law couldn’t go, so I lucked out. After the show, instead of filing out with the rest of the audience, we followed some people who worked there and ended up in a busy hallway where cast and crew members were milling about. They were ignoring us, as well they should have. I glanced to my left, and maybe 30 feet down the hall stood then-NBC News anchor Brian Williams. He and I locked eyes, and in a synchronicity I still don’t understand, shot each other double finger guns.

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Masonry

There used to be a cartoon called The New Pink Panther Show. Within that program was another cartoon called The Ant and the Aardvark. The aardvark was voiced by John Byner doing a spot-on Jackie Mason impression.

My friend Bill (of the above Ally Sheedy story) and I went to New York to goof around for a few days, and when we arrived, turned on the TV in our hotel room. The Ant and the Aardvark was playing.

If you can listen to Jackie Mason talk—or someone imitating Jackie Mason—and not break out into your own Jackie Mason impression, well, you must be dead inside.

We amused ourselves by going in and out of that impression for the duration of our trip. And I don’t know if we conjured this or what, but on that first day we saw an autographed headshot of Jackie Mason in a restaurant. One of us said, “Hey, Jackie Mason!” We were delighted.

The next day, there was another one in the window of a dry cleaner’s. “Hey, Jackie Mason!” Hilarious.

Then we saw another one somewhere else, and another one, each time accompanied by “Hey, Jackie Mason!” It was funny, but if you looked at it another way it was starting to feel like the makings of a horror movie: The Masoning.

On our last day there, we were coming out of a restaurant, in front of which was a parked car. The driver had opened the back door, and a man was getting out.

“Hey, Jackie Mason!” I said as Bill and I looked at each other in disbelief.

“Hello, my friend!” Jackie Mason said in his perfect Jackie Mason voice, as he walked past us into the restaurant.

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I’d love to hear about your celebrity sightings. Funny, strange, meaningful, horrible, whatever—let’s talk in the comments.

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