Whoops
Well, last Saturday night was pretty cool.
My brother, Gabriel, who is an unbelievably talented guitarist,
is in a band called Dinosaur Lightning, and they had a show in New
York City. Gabe is at SUNY Purchase College and joined the band
after responding to a flyer on campus.
Gabe came home for Thanksgiving, just like the rest of the college
crowd, but then on Saturday had to drive into Manhattan because
he had a gig. I love that word.
“Hey Dave, I’m playing at They Pussy Cat Lounge tonight
in Manhattan.”
“The strip club?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Holy crap, dude! That’s amazing! I’ll be there.”
My girlfriend and my buddy John (who works at the Pentagon in D.C.
but grew up with me in East Hampton) all piled into my car to meet
up with my other good friend, Steve Picken, who also grew up in
East Hampton, but is now living in the City and is a Staten Island
Ferry boat captain. He also has a small custom bicycle business
(631-871-0683, shameless plug) and lives in the city. Destination:
Battery Park to see a live concert and some pole dancing. Life is
good.
The night scene was pretty awesome, with Gabe completing this perfect
rock and roll puzzle of tough New York City night culture. Gabe
looked as rock star as ever when his set came out and the crowd
was really feeling them, which is always a great thing. The four
of us left the bar in a sweat from dancing around so much. We hopped
in a cab to Soho, where Steve lives. He offered to put us up for
the night, well, I really should say early morning.
We got out of the cab in Soho and had begun our walk back to his
apartment when I saw two guys standing outside of a bar. They were
both about 5’5, and smoking cigarettes. One guy had blonde
hair and the other guy had brown. The brown-haired guy looked familiar
to me. I got really excited about this. It is not often that I see
a friendly face in the city. I know about five people there. So
I immediately approached the guy with a big smile on my face. Keep
in mind, the crew I was with looked a little rough and tough from
the night. This guy couldn’t have felt too comfortable when
I walked right up to his face and yelled out, “Oh. my God,
dude, I know you!”
My ability to control how loud I speak gradually declines as an
evening goes on.
“You do?” the stranger said.
“Yeah! Did you go to Northeastern University in Boston?”
“No.” He sounded a little weirded out and took a step
back.
“Wait a second. You went to East Hampton High School.”
“Uhh, no.”
“Are you from East Hampton?”
“No, I’m from L.A.”
I laughed, “You’re just messing with me. I know I know
you, man. You’re from East Hampton right?”
Just then Steve chimed in, “Dude, that guy is an actor.”
“Wait, what? He’s an actor?”
“Yes I’m an actor.”
“OH MY GOD, YOU’RE THE GUY FROM THIRD ROCK FROM THE
SUN!”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“I used to watch that show all of the time.”
“Cool, man.”
I was so embarrassed. I was that guy. I was that guy that celebrities
complain about. I was that guy that celebrities hire bodyguards
for. And I’m not that guy. I’ve seen celebrities in
person and don’t freak out. Last year, I shook hands with
Alec Baldwin. I was just like, wow, he seems cool. But I totally
flipped on this guy, not because I was star struck, but because
I had figured out where I knew him from. If the guy said, I used
to work as a lifeguard in the summer in East Hampton, I would have
been like, “OH MY GOD WE USED TO LIFEGUARD TOGETHER!”
I was so embarrassed.
“Dude, I’m sorry for getting excited, I can’t
believe that I’m being that guy right now.”
“It’s okay.”
We left and the next day I googled “Third Rock From The Sun”
and found out that it was Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who has also been
in a handful of movies.
What do you do when you see a celebrity? Just pretend you don’t
know him/her? The next time I see this guy, should I just act like
I have no idea who he is? You know they know that you know who they
are. It’s all so freaking complicated.
