I was going to post all about our Christmas, but this seems more important.
Bryan’s mom, Sandra/Sandy/Sonjey is in town. We took her to see Oliver in the West End Saturday afternoon (a great show to actually see in London btw). We wanted to follow up with someplace nice for dinner so we booked a table at this Italian restaurant, Locanda Locatelli, in our neighborhood that guides and people are always recommending.
We walked in at 7pm and it’s a big, modern, pretty restaurant attached to a hotel. It looked fairly empty which I attributed to how dead this city is after Christmas (those lucky Europeans use part of their 4 million weeks of vacation time right about now). One look at the menu and I knew that, as is the case, the finer the food – the fewer my choices. This was real Northern Italian. No spaghetti and meatballs or baked ziti. Nope. Rabbit, wild boar, red mullet, Yael sad. But it was a nice place and we all were making the best of it. The place started to fill up as well.
Now at the point we have our entrees, we are sitting there chatting when all of the sudden Bryan lunges into me and claws my right arm for dear life. Before I can attack him back, I realize that in our secret marital language he is trying to tell me there is a very famous person walking by my left-hand side.
So I scan to the left and the unmistakable array of wrist accoutrements lets me know that it is none other than Mr. Hottie Chris Martin himself. Second time in two weeks. Very very exciting. I have a crush on him. Bryan has a crush on him. It’s perfect.
We watch as he goes to sit two tables and ten feet away from us and joins GWYNETH PALTROW. What??? How can I be this lucky?!
Now we three are engaging in full contact staring. But she is so pretty in real life. She must wear hair extensions. So nice they eat out. She is stroking his arm. How did we get so lucky tonight with our table? Who cares that rabbit is on the menu. Wow, the chef is really talking to them for a long time. Now the server is talking to them for a long time. That seems annoying. Fun they got a baby-sitter. He looks hot when not wearing French Revolution outfits and armbands. I am so happy they seem okay. She is so pretty. She is soooo pretty.
We still found time to eat and exchange a few words every few minutes, but mostly pretended not to stare and debated whether I should take a secret picture.
Then 20 minutes later a bundled up crazy-looking woman in a hat comes up to Chris Martin. And we all say, how rude that a fan would approach them at this nice restaurant in this sophisticated city. But I must admit: I was pleasantly surprised Chris Martin would be so nice to a fan interrupting his dinner. He even stood up to give the woman a hug. That’s crazy.
No wait, THAT’S MADONNA. What????????? WHY IS MADONNA ALSO IN THIS RESTAURANT JOINING THEM FOR DINNER??? We all three simultaneously begin to pass out. These are the only three celebrities I even know in London and they are in dining together in my line of vision. Eating their macrobiotic special meals and acting like it’s totally normal they’re out.
We stretched out our meal as long as possible, aided by a dessert order and then a credit card mix-up. Finally we left, and as we did we passed a bodyguard/driver standing by the front door. Bryan’s mom threatened to speak to him and we said please don’t. No use. She went right up to him and said, in all her Long Island glory, “Excuse me. Are you somebody’s bodyguard?” He said no comment.
We left and I realized for the first time that Locanda Locatelli is adjacent to the square Madonna lives/lived on. But then Bryan googled all this when we got home, and now it all makes sense.
I was telling my mom the story and I asked whether this may in fact be the greatest celebrity sighting ever. We agreed that Brangelina or TomKat would have been just a little bit crazier. So I’ll have to keep going back just in case. And develop a taste for rabbit.