Breakfast at Perge Modo's

Living in New York provides one with substantially increased odds of suprise celebrity encounters. I've certainly had my share. There was the now semi-infamous Tommy Lee incident, and the lovely conversation with Dan Aykroyd over Jack & Cokes. I keep having run-ins with Moby that lead me to believe we have some sort of shared destiny. (Or that we both, you know, live in the same city, or something.) And of course, I've heard scads of great starfucker stories from fellow New Yorkers in my time. These famous people, they seem to be everywhere.

Best brush-with-greatness story I've ever heard, though, is (unsurprisingly) right here.

Philip Seymour Hoffman lives on Coco's block. When I finally hunt...er...chance upon meeting him, at least now I'll have something relevant to discuss.