Go Say Hello

Man in Black: “You’re that smart?” Vizzini: “Let me put it this way. Have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?” Man in Black: “Yes.” Vizzini: “Morons.”

-The Princess Bride

Again, the need for brevity. I'm falling behind in my final exams regimen, and have paying work I must attend to before diving back into my studies. Sleeping until 7:30 is not helping at all, but when Peg's not working we don't set an alarm. She's been getting up at 5:30 or so for most of her life. I don't want to deprive her of the luxury of awakening with daylight outside.

So yesterday we picked up my cap and gown, a moment of optimism and faith for this pessimist. Afterward we walked over to Avenue of the Americas for an early supper at a little Georgian restaurant, one of maybe four or five within a few blocks of NYU. I do love this city.

A few minutes after our fine bottle of Georgian red wine arrived, a little rumpled man with wavy salt-and-pepper hair walked in to pick up his take-away supper. I did a double-take, and said to P, "Don't turn and look, but that's Wallace Shawn!"

She turned and looked. The young couple with two very small children at the next table turned and looked.

And yep, that was him.

Never heard of Wallace Shawn? Neither had Peg, but everyone of my generation knows him as the unforgettable Vizzini from the Princess Bride.

He still sort of looks like that.

Shawn lives in Chelsea, is starring in a one man play he wrote called the Fever a few blocks from here. By all accounts a thoughtful, interesting guy.

He started making small talk with an older guy by the window while he waited for his order. I decided I wasn't going to create an awkward moment by walking over there and chatting him up or, God forbid, asking for a photo together.

The young father wasn't so shy, and walked over to say hello and, I'm sure, say something about how much he loved the Princess Bride. Shawn reacted warmly enough. A couple minutes later his food arrived, and he walked out onto the sidewalk where a group of twenty-something young men stopped him three steps out the door. He posed graciously for photos, waved goodbye and started up the avenue with his supper.

I should've walked up and introduced myself. But what to say? I mean, I'd come off as a total geek if I brought up only that one movie, marking myself as a rube from Somewhere Beyond the Hudson (which, of course, I am). Hell, at 82 he's probably thrilled to be remembered, and the fact that he's still acting and writing and walking down the sidewalk carrying his own take-away is in fact something of an inspiration. Maybe tell him that?

No, the play here would've been to bring along Peg. She's really good at this sort of thing. They would've exchanged texts, and we'd be having him over for supper next week.

But no time for that. The thought of next week brings me crashing back into my need to get ready for these last two finals.