How to Stalk—er, Meet Celebrities in New York
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After working a long day in Manhattan, my boss/friend/bad influence, Maria, and I hit the streets with one goal: meet someone famous. Anyone famous. On previous trips, we have spotted celebrity look-alikes and a rap star, but one day Kiefer Sutherland came walking into our favorite restaurant. As working moms only in town for one week, we couldn’t miss the opportunity to return home victorious. Kiefer Sutherland was going to talk to us.

He was standing near the door. We needed to get his attention before he got too far away. I figured something simple would do. So I scooted a plate near the edge of our table and tapped it while reaching for my martini. Very clever of me, I thought. But it turned out Keefer’s phone rang at the same time, and he was too busy answering it to hear the loud crash. My apologies to the guy at the next table. I don’t know why he was so mad. Salad doesn’t stain, you know.

The next plan was a drive-by. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” said Maria. She is an ex-model who can swing her hips and strut like a pro. She was within a foot of him, and he didn’t even notice. I watched her get closer and closer while he was oblivious, still talking on the phone. At the last possible minute, she took a right and headed for the ladies’ room, crashing into our waiter. “More bread please,” Maria said, without missing a beat. She is really good under pressure. We were going to need a diversion. One that required something the entire restaurant would notice, like a fire. Luckily, it was my turn to do the work, so we didn’t have to repeat that ugly scene from last spring, when Maria was sure she saw Matt Dillon at Macy’s.

We waited until he was seated. I took a deep breath and stood up. “Help!” I yelled. “She’s choking!” Maria put her hands to her throat and made gagging noises. I looked over to see Kiefer’s reaction when a big hairy guy came behind Maria and squeezed her hard. She looked a little panicked but pretended to spit something out before resuming her regular breathing. The whole restaurant clapped, except Kiefer. He was still on the phone.

We sat back down feeling defeated. “You know what we need?” I asked.

“His phone number,” said Maria, watching him chat away.

“We need the check.”

After paying the bill, we got our coats and walked outside. We were determined to stay as long as it took for him to come out. How long could that take, anyway? After an hour of pacing, Maria went back in to use the bathroom. Guess what? He was gone. Apparently some crazy fans were stalking him so they let him leave through the kitchen.

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