A Brush With Fame

Everybody has a story or two about a close encounter of the celebrity kind. My story is a little different. I seem to have been endowed with a most unusual ability. Some would call it a talent, but to be quite honest it's brought more harm than good. You see, I always happen to run into famous people...literally. As in, with my car. I've nearly killed about a dozen Hollywood stars.

James Belushi was jogging down the street with his dogs, without a care in the world. I was driving my dad's Mustang, and not really paying attention. It was terrible. I didn't hit him, but I sure scared him pretty bad. And since he's the last Belushi, I don't think people would be very forgiving about losing him.

It got really bad when they held the Emmys here in town, because the streets were crawling with famous people. I was on guard, knowing I probably had an even better chance of squishing a star than normal. I was trying to get myself out of a really bad traffic jam, and as I swerved (recklessly, perhaps) out of my lane to make a left, I spotted some retard dashing across the street right in the middle of traffic. For some reason, he hesitated in the middle of the road and stopped right in my path.

Photo of Liev Schreiber
He lived to tell the tale.
I didn't hit him, not to worry, but I came close. It was the end of a long day and I wasn't in a good mood, so I slowed down and rolled down the window, prepared to yell something nasty and let off some steam. And who do I recognize this idiot to be? One of my favorite actors, and a man I'd love to run away with, Liev Schreiber.

My mouth hanging open, I stared at him as he stepped out of my way. I didn't think to say anything, offer him a ride, or even just throw him in the back seat. After a minute I drove on, not quite sure how I should feel. The psycho-stalker in me almost wished I could have hit him, grabbed him, and kept him for my own. But of course that crazy impulse didn't occur to me until it was too late. I guess Liev is safe for now. But if he's ever jaywalking in L.A. again, and he runs in front of my car, I can't be held responsible for what might happen.

--Ilana Urbach Top of page