We Need the Eggs

Mia Farrow brushed past me at the mall today. I swear she did.

She was walking briskly with a Sears shopping bag in one hand and a purse in the other. I froze. “Oh my God, it’s Mia Farrow,” my head chimed. “You have to say something to her. Tell her you’re a fan. Ask her what really happened between her and Woody. Go, go, go!”

I circled around and started to walk next to her. She looked and me and to my surprise I was proven wrong. It wasn’t Mia. Shocking. It was an ordinary shopper with a Sears bag and a purse. “Excuse me,” I said and walked past her.

Any reasonable, intelligent person would not have mistaken a poor defenseless shopper for Mia Farrow, but I let my Hollywood aspirations get the best of me once again. If this woman had actually been Mia Farrow how would my day have turned out differently? Would she be kind? Would she appreciate my thoughtful and probing cinematic questions? Would she sit at Starbucks with me and listen closely to my interpretations of “Husbands and Wives” as we sipped on Tazo Passion tea?

Doubtful. She might have smiled and continued to eagerly tote her Sears bag out into the world and into the presence of more adoring and mentally stable fans.  I watched fake-Mia trot away doing just that.

Side note:  Today’s experience reminded me of another supposed celebrity encounter I had with a woman who looked a helluva lot like Faye Dunaway at an Arby’s in Ohio, but that’s a story for another day.