Years ago my husband and I were visiting Kauai, which is exactly the kind of slow-paced, isolated, hiding-out-from-everything vacation we like.
There are a lot celebrities who like a slow pace too, so we weren’t too surprised when we saw Ben Stiller.
We were picking up supplies from a tiny local grocery store, and so, apparently, was Ben Stiller.
He was parked a few feet away from us, and trying pretty hard not to be noticed: he was wearing a hat and sunglasses, and he slumped in the driver’s seat of his van, while his wife and child went into the store to get something.
Look, we said. There’s Ben Stiller.
And we got our shave ice and continued on.
Later that morning, we were at a tiny local bakery getting coffee, and sure enough, there was Ben Stiller about five feet away, getting java too.
Look, we said. There he is again. That guy who’s really, really ridiculously famous, is somehow showing up right where we are, again. Or we’re showing up where he is.
Still later that afternoon, we were driving on a tiny island road to see the fields and plants and birds, and a guy on a bike pedals up right by our car about 10 feet away, and sure enough, it’s Ben Stiller.
By this time he recognizes us, and of course we recognize him, and there’s this strange feeling of déjà vu, or convergence, or what-the-heck-is-going-on. He pedals madly, and we slow the car down so he can go first.
Ben Stiller must think we’re stalking him, my husband says.
Maybe Ben Stiller is stalking us, I say.
There’s this odd, interesting, way that the Universe pulls forces together; creates convergence of energy and understanding.
I still don’t know any more than this: that for three times in 12 hours, I was within 10 feet of Ben Stiller.
Why? No idea.
Such is the Mystery.
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