So, Friday morning I flew to NY with Sean Penn -- hey, it's one plane, so that phrasing is accurate, if perhaps slightly misleading -- and even got to help him when we landed at JFK. He went out some wacky center staircase which is not where the human traffic flows (normally, past baggage claim and out to the curb at the end of the taxi queue, so all the drivers wait by that one double door). I, having followed him onto the plane (and tripped over his suitcase, but let's not dwell), knew he was with us, of course, so when I simultaneously saw his driver (with the S.J. Penn sign) while seeing Sean walking waaaaaaay down the end of the concourse, I said to the guy "Your guy's walking away down there -- blue jacket, silver suitcase." The driver, in a virtual whisper, looks down the terminal and says "Sir! Sir!", which, unless you were 2 feet from him or less, you'd never hear. So, as Sean gets still farther away, I yell, "SEAN!" and he turns around. I point to the whisperer and project (I wasn't shouting, I promise), "This is your driver." The whisperer thanks me, Sean starts walking back towards us, and says to me, "Hey, thanks. That helps." I nod, and leave the terminal -- did I mention I was on the phone with my sister this whole time? Waiting to cross the street, I turn to see the whisperer and Sean walking toward me. The whisperer salutes me (what the??) and Sean says, "Thanks again" whereupon I, very coolly, I thought, said, "No prob; I thought you guys wouldn't connect for awhile" and walked away.

Ok, but THAT is not where the title of this post comes from, because, frankly, although I think Sean Penn is a tremendous actor, and I admire his profound convictions on things, I'm not a huge fan, otherwise, 'cause sometimes I think he's pretty flappy for a guy who pretends to be other people, for a humongous salary.

However! Friday night!! Lili convinced me that going to sleep at 9 would be a wienie way to spend my only free evening in the city, so we went and had dinner at Dervish (yum!! Turkish food!!) and saw The Vertical Hour, a play starring Julianne Moore and Bill Nighy that closed today. The play? Meh, not so much. BUT. In the audience!!! LAUREN BACALL, a childhood idol of mine, with her son, Sam Robards. Ron Silver, whom I find tiresome. John Shea, who's a very good sort of utility emotive actor. And, last but certainly not least: MERYL STREEP. Yes. Lauren and Meryl, both, just 20 feet from me.

I don't mind telling you that it took ALL I could do not to go fall at Ms. Bacall's feet, thanking her for letting me interview her when she was doing previews in Boston for Woman of the Year back in 1981 , making me believe anything was possible (I was doing a magazine project for school, and when I found out my heroine was going to be in Boston for a 3-month run, I figured out how to contact someone in the production and got to get out of school for a day and interview her at the Schubert -- so cool). Also, I would have told Meryl I thought her Prada ensemble at the Oscars looked good in pix, but did nothing for her on TV. Tee hee.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Did you ask him to autograph your boobs?

3:13 PM  
Blogger Dew said...

No! Dang it! Was I supposed to?? Did I violate some star-sighting protocol by neglecting that?

10:25 PM  

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