The Time I Met Matthew Broderick

I’m in New York City for the first time in my entire life, and I’m loving it. I was trying to describe it to Leif over the phone, and it pretty much came out in one big breath, “Ohmygosh I love it! There’s so much to see and do and there are so many interesting people to watch, and there are smells of food and flowers, and everything buzzes with noise and life and you’d absolutely hate it.”

It’s true. He really would. He doesn’t like crowds and he’s allergic to flowers. Sometimes opposites attract, ok?

Anyway. I’m in the city sans Leif for the Personal Democracy Forum, which is a conference about technology in politics. Totally up my alley. But this post is not about technology or politics, or even my husband’s environmental tastes and preferences, it’s about Matthew Broderick and the most uncomfortable celebrity photo in the history of cameras.

I was walking through the theater district with my friend Justin Hart, looking for someplace to eat, when he slowed down and hissed, “Look!” There was a couple taking a photo, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Jenny, look!” Ok, fine, I gave a second glance, because Justin was really very much way too excited about these people posing for pictures.

Oh, hello. That’s Ferris Bueller. Except way older. It happens to the best of us Matthew, don’t sweat it. He also didn’t look like he was too pleased to be taking the picture with the pretty girl posing with him, so I was content to just pass him by.

“Hi Matthew! What’s happening? Would you mind stopping for one more picture with my friend Jenny?” I know Justin might deny this, but I swear he shoved me into Mr. Broderick’s personal space as he pulled his camera out.

“Uh, hi …” What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry my friend made you do this, and don’t worry because I will probably punch him in the neck later for making my face turn the same color as my very red dress?

Then to make matters worse, my celebrity photo mate made his displeasure known by rolling his eyes and saying, “Fine. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

I look like I want to cry. Or murder Justin. One or the other.

“Oh come on, she’s a pretty girl, posing for a picture with her can’t be that bad!” Yup. ‘Physically harm Justin’ was rapidly moving to the top of my to-do list. Because he totally said that. To the man married to Sarah Jessica Parker.

Le sigh.

At least I got this picture out of it, which I have fondly titled, In Which Matthew Broderick and I Are Incredibly Annoyed at Justin Hart.