My favorite thing about New York (by which I mean any place where I'm not driving, including the Red and Gold Lines in LA) is that when you have an interaction with someone while en route, it's not necessarily a bad one. If you're driving and you actually communicate with another driver, it's probably via middle finger or exchange of insurance information. Whereas human-scale public transportation produces stories like this one:
AK: Guess who got on at the Highland Park Gold Line station and got off at the Chinatown stop?
Me: Maggie Gyllenhaal? Your friend Suzie?
AK: Nope. A little sparrow.
Me: Oh my god, that's so wonderful. I hate driving.
All of which is to say that while walking from my hotel to Tommy's place in Chelsea yesterday, I had the best celebrity sighting a writer can have: I saw one of my characters walking down 6th Avenue.
Anna Lisa Hill, co-star of the still-unpublished Calla Boulevard and therefore only a star in my mind, is a 50-something, kinda butch woman who incongruously cares for a full-size black poodle. And there she was: short brown hair, sensible shoes and big black poodle. She was maybe a little more stylishly dressed than I'd imagined her--she looked like what Anna Lisa would have looked like if she'd run away to Greenwich Village (which she thought about doing) instead of Lilac Mines, California. But still!
Oh, and AK and I saw Penelope Cruz at Spring Awakening.