One of the first people I (nearly) ran into when I first got to the hotel was Andrew Firestone, formerly of (dubious) The Bachelor fame. I stepped out of the elevator and there he was, chatting about the laudable virtues of the Audi with two bachelorettes and a dude.
Interesting sidenote to the sidenote: I have actually walked into a celebrity before. Peter Paige (of Queer As Folk) walked up to a security guard the same time I did. We were both frisked and then went to walk into the building at the same time. Boom! We smacked into each other. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I said embarrassedly. We both took a step back, paused, and then stepped forward again. Boom! He started laughing. I freaked out, turned red from head to tie, made a noise like a little squeak, and then ran up the stairs like Cinderella in reverse.
I finished (?) another short story, “Material Girl,” today. Next is “Papa Don’t Preach.” I have three more stories rolling around in my head. If this were a novel, I’d have about 60 pages done.
That is all.