Hi Bob!

So I'm at the Hudson tonite near Central Park, and I figure I better go get some dinner. I've been reading E.B.White's "With the Old Breed," and despite that, the Japanese sushi restaurant down the block seems like a solid option. I get the usual "lonely guy table for one" that no other paying customer would find acceptable, and I hunker down to read the other book I picked up for the flight, Bob Newhart's autobiography. There's some cute tales of days gone by, and he's quick to mention in the writing the drinking game based on the ol' Bob Newhart show, "Hi Bob." So I'm enjoying probably the most superlative sushi I've ever had (surprisingly, I think it even tops the nights of saki-bombs and sushi with Cale out west -- sorry, cap'n) and at the next table, discussing baseball, there's a voice that's instantly recognizable -- Bob Costas. A quick glance to my right -- yes, that's Bob Costas. Hi Bob. So my New York celeb citing tally goes up to three -- Lance Armstrong and Sean Penn at the club a few weeks back rounding out the total. I'm not one to go all blubbery for celebrities, so it's more like seeing, I don't know, the same reaction I had as a child to seeing a circus elephant running through our yard (true story). It's sort of a "hey, there's something you don't see everyday." Personally, I think I'm just disappointed that I never got to see Mr. T in Chicago. I pity the fool that don't see....T.