My Night...

I'd had a bit of a glam night. To begin with--a small book party for Matthew Barney (not only a great artist, but as you can see, a hell of a handsome guy too) at Glen Horowitz booksellers, followed by a press dinner at the French Bistro Papillon at 54th, just off 5th.

Papillon is a cool place with nice, reassuring bistro decor--all dark wood and old ceiling fans--and as I sat down for a very tasty Onion Soup, the host swung by. "You know who's here?" He asked me.

The bar was essentially empty except for two or three people. A few other diners were scattered about happily munching on the hearty fare (I kind of wish I'd tried the Croque Monsieur).

"No." I said drolly. I'm rarely really moved by who else is around, and frankly, other than Harrison Ford, I'm unlikely to recognize anyone anyway.

"The Former President." he said.

"Huh?"

I looked again. Sure enough.


There was Bill Clinton, having a drink at the bar.

There just aren't that many people who awe me--maybe a small handful, but he's one of them. And so, very uncharacteristically, I actually got up from my seat, went over to him, shook his hand, and thanked him for everything he'd done for us and for the country. He smiled, asked me my name and we chatted for a few seconds, before I demurred, not wanting to take up much of his time, and returned to my seat.

Now in retrospect, I wish I'd said "except of course for criminal justice" prompting a conversation about his CJ policies which in turn led to a discussion of my book, but alas, in the glare of that sort of megawatt celebrity, the mind does blank a bit.

Still, it made for a really cool night.