… that in a city of millions of people – you can randomly run into people you know in the weirdest places. It makes this metropolis feel like a small town.<\/p>\n
Today was a particularly awesome one – because I had not seen this person in – uhm – 10 years? Maybe longer. His was the theatre company in Chicago who produced the production of Virginia<\/i> – where I understudied the lead. This was a bazillion years ago – but we became friends, and we have a lot of friends in common. He was always just really cool to work with, so supportive – you always just felt psyched to work with him. Then he moved to New York – it must have been over a decade ago – and I lost track of him – although I would hear OF him, because he wrote a show which is now going into its 500th year or something like that, hahaha – like a GINORMOUS hit – so I’d see his name around.<\/p>\n
Anyway, this is so random – but I was at 30 Rockefeller Center today (“30 Rock” – as it is coolly referred to – “Yeah, I have an appointment at 30 Rock, year whatever, 30 Rock, uh huh, SNL, Radio City, whatever … 30 Rock …”) – and it’s a madhouse there. If you’ve come here as a tourist I am sure you have gone there – with the ice skating and the Christmas tree – and the throngs outside to meet Al Roker and etc. etc. It’s a hub. Foot-traffic is INTENSE. There are also many layers of security you have to go through in order to just get onto a damn elevator. Which is not surprising. Member the anthrax craziness? But anyway – I jump through hoops to get onto the elevator – get my picture taken, flash my identification, give them my Pap smear results, my grade school report card, and the speeding ticket I got in 1994 … and finally, I’m given a guest badge and off I go.<\/p>\n
Elevator banks. Choose one. There are 300 elevators. I get on one, after flashing my badge at the security guard.<\/p>\n
It’s a huge plushy elevator – and a girl is already in it when I step on, and a man steps on with me – and the doors close.<\/p>\n
The man steps forward, and says, “Sheila?”<\/p>\n
I look. And holy shit, it is Patrick. That poor woman who was trapped in the elevator with us, as we hugged like manic koala bears, clutching each other, and saying, over and over, “Oh my God!” “Patrick!” “What the …” “Holy crap!” etc. It was SO good to see him. I still can’t get over it. Huge smile on my face. I describe my journey to the elevators only to describe the unbelievable coincidence … of him getting on the same one with me … Just so weird. And so perfect.<\/p>\n
He got off on “my” floor with me – even though it wasn’t “his” floor – and we stood there for a while, catching up, just laughing and reveling in each other – it was so awesome. I am going to organize a “reunion” with him and our other mutual friends over the next couple of weeks – because it was just too awesome to see him, and too perfect. An old friend and supporter from Chicago (he always was just eager to give me a chance – casting me in stuff, pushing me forward – he was one of THOSE people in my life – a real “fan” – which God, you just need) … and there he was in my elevator.<\/p>\n
It was a rainy manic day but God, it was just so cool to run into him. In that elevator out of many elevators. Catching up with each other, surrounded by photographs of Chevy Chase and Johnny Carson and crap like that. Reveling in the unbelievable oddness and perfection … of how this reunion came about.<\/p>\n
Couldn’t keep the smile off my face for the whole morning.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
… that in a city of millions of people – you can randomly run into people you know in the weirdest places. It makes this metropolis feel like a small town. Today was a particularly awesome one – because I … Continue reading