Let’s follow up with a personal anecdote. That just occurred.
Boys and girls, movie-goers and cinephiles alike… gather ‘round.
Once upon a time, a researcher-slash-assistant at a film-and-television-production-company in Beverly Hills was walking back from her lunch break. She arrived at the front of the building when a white SUV pulled up, driven by a man with dark hair and dark sunglasses, who looked slightly frazzled. The researcher-slash-assistant watched as another man greeted the first man in front of his car and got into the driver’s seat as the dark-haired-man got out. She turned away from the scene now, only thinking briefly to herself, “That man has to be famous. He just has that air about him.”
She continued walking, enjoying her last moments of sunshine before reentering the over-air-conditioned office building when she realized that the dark-haired-man was making his way, speedily, towards the same door she was headed for. “This man is clearly famous,” she thought again. “I even recognize him under all the hair and shades, I’m just not sure how.”
They arrived at the door at the same time, which was awkward. The researcher-slash-assistant was closest to the door, so she opened it for the dark-haired-man, who looked at her and said, “thanks,” before continuing inside.
The two of them entered the elevator with two other women. The elevator was crowded, and the dark-haired-man and the researcher-slash-assistant had another moment of awkwardness while trying to decide who would stand where. Finally, they found their appropriate pockets of space and waited a few seconds to ascend to the next floor.
As those big brass elevator doors parted and the researcher-slash-assistant and her new awkward friend started to walk forward, a panic-stricken voice cried out. It was one of the women still in the elevator. “Are you or aren’t you?!” she demanded. The dark-haired-man laughed and said with vigor, “I suppose I am!” That wasn’t enough for the manic woman. “Are you REALLY Al Pacino?!” she squealed. “I REALLY am,” he said, half over his shoulder.
The whatever-slash-whatever stared at the famous-movie-star, her diaphragm squeezing itself into a tiny pinched pocket. The famous-movie-star glanced back at her and laughed a bit before walking, dark hair and all, down a hall and into a doorway.
The slash walked down her own hallway, into her own door, wearing a huge smile, tingling from the thrilling chance encounter.
OH GOD I JUST WAS IN AN ELEVATOR WITH AL PACINO.