I'm glad drunk and disorderly laws have higher requirements than what I did Friday night. It was five AM, and four of us were looking for the subway after some late-night pizza. We passed a group of cops walking the other way, and one girl asked them where the nearest train was. A short, cute cop stopped and asked where we were trying to go.
Cop: Oh, you're going to Astoria? I'm going there in about 20 minutes, do you want a ride?
Me, overjoyed: Really?!
Cop, sneering: No.
Me: What the fuck. You know, this is why cops have reputations as assholes.
Girl, in a loud aside to me: He's so cute!
Me, also loudly: Are you kidding? He is NOT cute. [I faced him] You are not cute.
Girl, turning back to the cop: Do you know what street the F is on?
Cop: Yeah, yeah, it's on the corner of Fuck Off and Find It Yourself.
Me, taking an angry step toward him: FUCK YOU. You are such a FUCKING DOUCHEBAG.
He laughed and walked away. The girl was grinning widely and squealed, "He was Irish! I could tell!"
Me: No wonder he was such a fucking asshole.
I also think I hugged John Krasinski. Note that this does not mean I actually did, just that I really want to think I did. I was sitting by the register at the pizza place when two men walked in. I commented loudly on how one looked incredibly like John Krasinski. The girl who would later fall in love in Asshole Cop agreed with me. That was all the encouragement I needed to start my own love connection. I raised my arm and tried to snap my fingers, failed, then called out, "Hey, blond dude!" He turned. "Have you ever gotten that you look like John Krasinski?" He started laughing, then confirmed he had. That's when I busted out my curveball: Ever gotten Aaron Eckhart? BAM! Hit him with a new one.
They sat down at the table next to ours, Aaron Krasinski facing me. And face me he did. Every time I looked up, he was grinning at me, occasionally giving me these cute eyebrow-raised smirks, with an expression on his face like he was waiting for me to do something. In my egotistical drunken state, I assumed he was simply taken with my excessive adorability. Or my excessive cleavage. (Don't judge, it was party night.) I asked if I could call him Aaron. I could. My friends laughed at me, and Aaron and I bonded over their jealousy over our true love.* I gave his friend, Aaron Jr., my leftover pizza, they got up to leave, and I jumped up to hug him goodbye.
I got home and decided to see if John Krasinski was in New York right now. I knew it wasn't actually him, but a girl can dream, right? I ended up on Gawker Stalker, and it turns out he lives in that area, and all of the recent sightings of him have been within a 3-block radius of that pizza place. COINCIDENCE? Or me missing the chance to make Jim Halpert my boyfriend, or at least be able to brag to everyone I ever met that this happened to me?
Now, logically, I know if it really was him, he wouldn't be joking about falling in love with some drunk chick at a pizza place at 5 in the morning. But on the other hand, it was him and there is no other explanation. He kept doing the smirky Jim face, and what if he was trying to get me to realize it actually was him? You know how those Hollywood types get when they go too long without public recognition and worship.
So that's how I've been spending the remainder of my weekend. Slowly convincing myself that I had a glorious encounter with a celebrity and didn't even realize it until it was too late. At least if this dream is shattered, I'll always have my gyno run-in with Amy Ryan with which to comfort my soul.
*Sample dialogue: "How could we not? Such a perfect setting."
I Am Still Alive. Basically.
4 days ago