I wouldn't have even looked up of it weren't for the voice, a familiar voice, climbing and falling over its ever so slightly roughened edges, saying, "Oh, no thank you. I'm not allowed." Yep. It was Sarah Jessica Parker, turning down a flight attendant's offer of champagne as she headed farther back into the depths of business class to confer with her two personal assistants. Tiny, of course, and much better looking in person without the excesses of television makeup, she tucked herself into the gap between seats across from her mini-entourage.
I watched the moment of recognition dawn on the last of the boarding passengers' faces as they realized that, yes, a Famous Person was just ahead. Women spotted her first of course: a sudden stilled expression, a quick half-turn and clutch at her traveling companion's arm, a hissed demand, "Look, look, look. Oh my god, it's her." One woman managed a quick flurry of compliments, but most just smiled and moved past. Only a very few showed no sign of recognition.
It occurred to me that in fact I was headed to New York, a place where lots and lots of Famous People live. This could be good. Also very blog-worthy. I began to plan my itinerary to enable maximum star spotting. Literary stars would count too, I decided. I would haunt the Village, the Upper East and Upper West sides, camera at the ready.
As with most of my New York plans--an afternoon at MoMA, a dinner at Momofuku Ko--the stargazing plan came to nothing. At least I can console myself with the knowledge that, unlike all those silly fans, I was the picture of nonchalance and cool in The Presence. Yeah. Right.
Story by Kathy