Hijinx: On Tap.
In one sense, it’s almost pointless to mention this since you were all there.
You saw it with your own eyes.
Friday night we had an emergency meeting of the shareholders for Birdflag. Many economic topics needed conclusion and restitution. Also, we had just played some ultimate, and were meeting up afterwards for drinks.
We hit the Redstar, and my group had immediate trepidation. Mainly because we were soaking wet and looked miserable, and we were entering a joint that screamed, “Hey, even if we’re not totally classy, we do have some self respect, so we would appreciate it if you wore a collared shirt and slacks if you don’t quite have the time to put on a tie.”
Anyway, our group hits the bar, but is actively scoping for seats. As I survey the parlay, what do my wandering eyes notice? I am sitting three feet away from Ron Livingston.
The very man we were talking about last week.
We ended up finding an open booth, and lo and behold, our other friends randomly show up after a concert . Totally unscripted. And now they are sitting at the bar, right next to Ron his-own-self. Nobody believes that it is him. Recognizing famous people is my one gift in life, but evidently it is more of a curse. People only believed me when I made the server admit it was him. We needed to break the ice, but how? Luckily, our friend Peter sent us a bottle of champagne. I don’t know if he was being drunk, expected us to pay, or what, but we decided to send Ron Livingston a shot of Jager. The bartender screwed up and gave it to Peter. So instead we sent another drink to Ron, this time a Glenlivet (in honor of his drink in Swingers). He got it at the worst possible time. Right as the bartender gave it to him, the girl he was trying to score with got up and left. What’s he going to do? Make a last ditch effort at pants, or nod to some dirtballs in the corner? He ignored us.
As we were leaving, I took one last chance. I stopped by and told him “I like your work.”
He halfheartedly said thanks, and was visibly drunk, so I took no offense. Then I handed him my business card with my address scribbled on the back, and told him I was having a party the next Saturday and would love it if he stopped by. He stared at the card like he was deciphering the Rosetta stone. When I got home, I looked him up on IMDB.com, to see what he was filming in town. I couldn’t find out, it was unlisted. And funnily enough, the only thing I’ve ever seen him in is Swingers and Office Space. I guess I really don’t like his work all that much.
I wonder if anyone else had a brush with famous people on Friday night?
You saw it with your own eyes.
Friday night we had an emergency meeting of the shareholders for Birdflag. Many economic topics needed conclusion and restitution. Also, we had just played some ultimate, and were meeting up afterwards for drinks.
We hit the Redstar, and my group had immediate trepidation. Mainly because we were soaking wet and looked miserable, and we were entering a joint that screamed, “Hey, even if we’re not totally classy, we do have some self respect, so we would appreciate it if you wore a collared shirt and slacks if you don’t quite have the time to put on a tie.”
Anyway, our group hits the bar, but is actively scoping for seats. As I survey the parlay, what do my wandering eyes notice? I am sitting three feet away from Ron Livingston.
The very man we were talking about last week.
We ended up finding an open booth, and lo and behold, our other friends randomly show up after a concert . Totally unscripted. And now they are sitting at the bar, right next to Ron his-own-self. Nobody believes that it is him. Recognizing famous people is my one gift in life, but evidently it is more of a curse. People only believed me when I made the server admit it was him. We needed to break the ice, but how? Luckily, our friend Peter sent us a bottle of champagne. I don’t know if he was being drunk, expected us to pay, or what, but we decided to send Ron Livingston a shot of Jager. The bartender screwed up and gave it to Peter. So instead we sent another drink to Ron, this time a Glenlivet (in honor of his drink in Swingers). He got it at the worst possible time. Right as the bartender gave it to him, the girl he was trying to score with got up and left. What’s he going to do? Make a last ditch effort at pants, or nod to some dirtballs in the corner? He ignored us.
As we were leaving, I took one last chance. I stopped by and told him “I like your work.”
He halfheartedly said thanks, and was visibly drunk, so I took no offense. Then I handed him my business card with my address scribbled on the back, and told him I was having a party the next Saturday and would love it if he stopped by. He stared at the card like he was deciphering the Rosetta stone. When I got home, I looked him up on IMDB.com, to see what he was filming in town. I couldn’t find out, it was unlisted. And funnily enough, the only thing I’ve ever seen him in is Swingers and Office Space. I guess I really don’t like his work all that much.
I wonder if anyone else had a brush with famous people on Friday night?
posted by The Cruise at 11:09 AM
2 Comments:
He was great in "Band of Brothers". The best miniseries I've ever seen.
I'm sick of seeing this picture of ron livingston everytime I check this site... fine, you're right, he was the guy sitting 3 feet from me. Once I saw him from the front I couldn't disagree.
as a concert goer, I'm still perterbed that jeff tweedy made us play the 'silent game' - he put the whole audience in time out... who does that?!
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