I like to think that if I were to ever run into a famous person, I would totally give that person his space and privacy and not be all rubbernecky and pointing and whispering.
Not so. I am a complete pointer and whisperer, as pathetic as that is.
This summer, I saw this man in the Prado in Madrid:
Only he looked older and maybe had some facial hair and he was wearing a baseball cap. Having never in my life seen a complete episode of any crime drama, I did not know who this person was, just that he was getting a lot of attention from the Spanish school children. I pulled some of them aside and asked, in English, if this guy was on tv there in Spain. Si, si, was their answer. What is the name of the show? Casi Miami was the response. Hmm, that must be some local Spanish show. Clearly this guy with the red hair giving out autographs is an American. If I get the chance, I will strike up a conversation about how that is being an American acting in a Spanish tv show.
I almost got the chance. I saw him a while later waiting for his daughter outside the museum gift shop. I almost walked up to him and started a conversation. But then I saw my mom standing closeby, so I decided to share with her the news that she was standing next to someone famous. I pulled her around the corner and got all whispery and pointy (mind you, I didn't know who this famous guy was) and my mom blurted out, quite loudly, "He is just some average Joe Schmoe!!" There is no question that David Caruso knew we were talking about him. Coolness totally runs in my family.