We have all had a starstruck moment.What the heck? Bradley Cooper? On the same sidewalk as me, walking right towards me? Am I seeing things? A movie star right in front of me acting like a normal person? Here he comes! Look cool. Don't stare. Let's see if he looks over, let's see if he notices me. Oh ....my ....god ... Bradley ...Muthafucken Cooper!... Just! Looked! At! Me!!! I think he smiled a little. Holy Mother of Christ! Bradley Cooper just walked me me on St. Catherine and Drummond and smiled at me as I looked at him! Holy crap! Get the phone out fast!!! Maybe I can snap a pic of him walking away so people will believe I saw him!The moment you encounter a famous celebrity the information enters the amygdala, shoots over to the brain stem, pushes faster than competing information transmitted on neurons into the frontal lobe and almost instantly burns into a long-term memory that pushes out other less important memories, such as the moment a child was born or your first kiss as a teen.
Celebrity-spotting memories are so powerful that they can even be contagious. Someone told me that he saw a minor Canadian celebrity musician named Bruce Cockburn having coffee on the Main a few years ago. I'm don't know or care about Bruce Cockburn but my brain mused over the incident so many times that it has now become a personal memory, difficult to separate from my own real memories.
Our brains are getting better. We commit fewer crimes. We buy fewer lottery tickets. We get high on drugs and booze less. We don't do horoscopes.
But the celebrity obsession wrinkle, surely a remnant of our days as polytheists, is still roaring strong.
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The possibility of celebrity encounters is part of what makes a city exciting.
In a recent film on Netflix a child moves from Brooklyn to small town Washington state and tells his new friends. "Brooklyn is neat, You see famous people there."
The big five world cultural capitals, London, Paris, Tokyo, New York and Los Angeles have long lured people with the magic dust of encountering celebrities.
Montreal? Not so much. European tourists would occasionally stand outside of Leonard Cohen's house in hopes of spotting the sombre musician.
But alas Montreal comes up short in the celebrity siting department.
Admittedly someone from France or Trois Pistoles might be impressed to spot Coeur de Pirate or France D'Amour eating chocolate cake in a restaurant, but such sightings would fly right over the heads of many less sensitive to the francophone mileu.
And until Quebec artists start performing in English for world audiences (next week, I think. - Chimples), it will remain that way.
Comedian Denis Leary told me in a phone interview that he has come to Montreal many times but knows nothing about the city because he stays in his hotel room. Imagine if he had come out to Crescent and milled around the Golden Square Mile? Dozens of happy, excited memories would have been created and passed on just by him walking around like a normal person.
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Celebrities don't even have to be particularly well-known or admirable for it to be exciting. Screw up Corey Haim stumbled around the West End for a while before he died of drug-related causes.
Was his presence, pathetic though it may have been, a value added? Hell to the yes. Everybody who crossed paths with him recalls it well.
The Great Antonio was more of a welfare recipient than a legit celebrity but all who spotted him as he sat in his various spots around town remembers ever detail of their encounters.
I once saw actor Wallace Shawn walking down Crescent and said "hey it's a nice day, ain't it?" and he looked at me said dreamily, "I.... wouldn't.... know."
I haven't seen all that many celebs around Montreal. Pierre Trudeau sure. Mulroney nope. Bradley Cooper? Hell no. Peter Gabriel at a party. Ben Kingsley at the Jello Bar but me too busy checking out the chicks, although my pal Bernard Deneeve went and chatted with him.
Genie Bouchard, nope, but other family members saw her around.
My wife once saw that cute little funny NDG comedian actor guy (whose name I forget now that he moved to Toronto) buying cat food on Monkland.
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As with everything, however, the 20 percent wreck everything, as the Pareto rule dictates. Celebrities don't want to mingle because sure 80 percent of people who spot them will be cool with them but other 20 percent will be pests.*
So maybe we can make Montreal a place where we respect celebrities and don't invade their space too much.
Heck yeah, that'll be our trademark, put up the public awareness posters in bus shelters now, so when it's -22 C and you're waiting for the bus you'll read a sign reminding you not to pester Beyonce if she shows up to stand next to you.
Celebs come to town around this time of year with the Grand Prix and various movie shootings but imagine if we devoted that $100 million lights-on-the-bridge budget to beefing up our celeb spotting clout?
A little razzle dazzle could go a long way to making Montreal a primo place to attract celeb-watchers from around the world. Try these on for size:
Mom! I just saw Kellis buying a milkshake at Orange Julep.Even reading those examples got you tingling. Don't deny it. .
Honey am I mistaken or that Pit Bull behind us in line at the depanneur?
You'll never guess who helped me shovel out my car this morning? Clint Eastwood!
So someone please, text Danny De Vito. Give him flight money, a hotel room and $800 to get him walking down De Maisonneuve for a few hours. So many delightful memories will sprout from this that all of our problems will seem smaller because that's the way our brains work.
*(Sometimes even minor celebrities can be pests, as people waited to congratuate a musician named David J. at a recent show I attended and an aging musician named Lewis Furey so dominated his time with chatter that many others just gave up and left).