After being busted for appropriating Sandra Bernhard on Friendster, I remembered this story:
Late last spring, I was driving a rented car on 10th Avenue, heading out of town for the weekend. I was slowing down around 22nd Street to make a right turn when my friend Robert, sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly and rather urgently grabbed my arm.
He said, firmly: "Trevor, don't crash the car. Sandy's on the corner with her girlfriend."
Needless to say, as I jerked my head to the right to check out Miss B, I let out a near-shriek kind of whelp and almost drove the rented-midsize-whatever-it-was into the Empire Diner.
The moral of the story, kids, is this: when a celebrity of note, like Sandy B., is spotted while driving, pull over to ask for something - like inanely unnecessary directions, skin care advice, or a tampon - rather than put the lives of innocent, overcharged diners at risk.