Fan girl

There were no more cheap tickets for Don Quixote, so A and I decided to take in a movie. 2 Days in Paris was (is) playing at Golem, and though I'd already seen it, I agreed on a second time because I respect Julie Delpy as an artist and this, her first feature-length, was funny enough.

Even with the two buses from Barrio del Pilar to Plaza de España, A and I still had time to kill at 8½, where I thumbed through photographs of Berlin, and spotted Isabel Coixet's La vida es un guión, an autobiography of sorts. A future purchase, I told myself.

I checked the time on my cellphone. The movie would be starting in 15 minutes. Stepping out across Martin de los Heros in the brisk evening air, we noticed stylish fellow movie-lovers queuing to enter their respective salas. I glanced around, a bit nervous, and what should catch my eye but a familiar nose belonging to very familiar--and beautiful, I might add--face. A black cap and very light makeup, a bomber jacket, and jeans tucked in boots, like so many a Madrileña on a casual night out with friends. A didn't understand why I was tapping her so frantically on the arm, attempting to direct her attention to the woman a mere foot away from us.

La Penélope +.

Accompanied by El Pedro.

The couple behind had noticed, too, as the woman coyly smiled to the man and referred to them as los famosos. I had an impulse to ask them if they wanted to get closer, but as A would later affirm, we were in a privileged position. Starstruck, we were as silent as lambs as the host tore our tickets and directed us to the screening room for 2 Days...downstairs. We watched the Ps head into Padre Nuestro, though A jokingly wondered whether or not we should join them, whether or not to ask where Javi and Mónica were.

Later, Pedro came down with an employee to get a drink from the vending machine--on the house, claro. I fidgeted with the copy of the movie guide I'd picked up in the lobby, A and I pretending to be as nonchalant as possible. Yes, of course, we were quite tempted to get autographs or "say 'hello'." In the end, we didn't, partially because we were too shy and partially because they were just there to chill out.

(So that's why I'm writing a blog entry.)

I recounted the sighting of my roommates upon arriving home. Apparently, it's no big deal to see Pedro, at least, on the town. My roommate went on to give me a short bio of the director, about how they are both from Ciudad Real, and how he used to see Pedro, also out and about before he was "super famous." He found it impressive that a boy from a small Spanish pueblo could rise to such great heights (i.e. Hollywood) and also remarked on Pedro's intelligence, marked by such diverse experiences. "He's seen the best...and the worst," my roommate remarked with a wistful air.

Well, no matter. However uncommon such a celebrity sighting is, suffice it to say that it was a very pleasurable moment, making for a soon-to-be oft-repeated anecdote. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll forget it almost as fast as I experienced it, just another memory.


EDIT, October 28, 8:39AM
I'm that much of a fan girl that I am actually considering buying this shirt: