I honestly don’t know how I found this out, but it came to my attention that Al Pacino enjoyed having dinner on a daily basis at a restaurant called “The Left Bank” on the upper east side of Manhattan. It just so happened that I lived on the upper east side and for some insane reason, got a bug up my ass to go there in the hopes of meeting him.
So, my roommate and I and three of our theater friends walked over to The Left Bank one evening and were determined to sit there and eat until Mr. Al Pacino walked into the restaurant.
After we got our table, I positioned myself so I would have a perfect view of the front door. And every time the door would opened, my entire body jerked with the anticipation of him making an entrance.
Finally…after almost an hour of eating as SLOWLY as we possibly could…
Al Pacino walked in......
He sat at a table across the room with two other gentlemen.
(holy freaking hell!)
We all just about died trying to look at him without appearing as if we were a bunch of crazed teeny-boppers.
Now…I had to figure out HOW I was going to nonchalantly get myself to his table, because I didn’t want to just LOOK at him, I wanted to SPEAK to him.
(and possibly TOUCH him)
I decided that the best way to ease myself into this, was to go use the restroom and just walk by his table so I could get a good look at him first.
(and just walking by his table made me freak)
To get to the restroom, you had to go through a door and then walk up a flight of stairs. On the way back, I passed by his table again.
When I got back to my friends, they were all asking me, “Oooh...what did he look like up close?”
And just then, I saw Mr. Pacino get up from his table and head for the restroom.
(shit!…what rotten timing)
But then I thought, “No, this is perfect…I’ll just go back to the restroom so it’ll be just he and I alone…and we’ll have no other choice than to converse.”
(can you imagine being in the same restroom with Al Pacino…taking a pee together?)
I jumped up from the table making a beeline for the door. And just as I flung it open, I felt it slam into someone on the other side. And as I was getting ready to apologize…I looked smack into the face of Al Pacino as he was talking to someone on a payphone. I couldn’t say one word and just ran up the stairs.
(this was turning into an I Love Lucy episode)
Anyway, I dilly-dallied in the restroom by washing my hands two or three times; I took a couple deep breaths and headed back to the stairs - I figured that I’d be able to talk to him there.
WRONG….he was no longer on the phone.
When I got back to the table, I told my friends, “Let’s just go…because this is useless, I’m just not meant to meet him.” So we paid the check and got up to leave. We decided to all walk by his table on the way to the front door and be satisfied with just looking at him and calling it a night.
I was the last one in line and as I got near his table I thought to myself, “NO…I will not allow this opportunity to pass.” So I stopped and looked him straight in the eyes and said, “Hi Mr. Pacino, I’m sorry for interrupting your dinner, but I just have to tell you how much I enjoy and appreciate your work.”
Besides saying thank you to me, I honestly can’t remember anything else he said, because it was all just a big blur. And then I reached out my right hand to shake his and he responded by shaking mine. I said something like, “Enjoy your evening” and walked out of the restaurant.
When I got out into the street, I started hooting, “I DID IT….I DID IT...I actually talked to Al Pacino and touched him with THIS hand...and I will NEVER wash it again!”
As we walked back to my apartment, I was in a daze and just kept staring at my hand looking to see if he had left any traces of his spaghetti sauce on it.
Mr. Pacino, if you should by any slim chance ever read my blog, please know that I’m so happy to have met you. You probably don’t remember our meeting, but I‘m the dick who slammed you in the ass with that door at The Left Bank in 1977 and I’m sorry.
Oh…and I eventually had to wash my hand.