The year-1997. They needed an actor with a car, you get more money with a car, to stay in front of the Mayor’s house in NYC. A long trip but a day’s work. I didn’t complain. With no idea what the movie was about or who were the stars, I drove in and parked and saw a super thin young man with longish hair wearing jeans and a leather jacket guarded by–who else?-yup, a body guard. None of my adorableness could get near him. He was playing an Irish terrorist living in the home of Harrison Ford, a cop. Mr. Ford, my friend from Working Girl, was not on set that day. And dopey me, I asked an assistant who’s the handsome guy across the street. “Brad Pitt.” So that’s my near miss. No biggie, I thought on the way home through heavy traffic.