I was in an art gallery, I believe in Culver City, because we went with a building neighbor every month to the openings so she could get more into the art world, so it probably was one of those trips. Evening, then probably, and still so lovely warm at night you could just walk from gallery to gallery with just the lightest of long-sleeved T-shirts. It was a photography exhibit, and suddenly I saw the back of a tall, black-haired gentleman next to me. And I knew who he was without seeing his face or hearing his voice, which I still find so amazing. I may have mentioned it to pinkfish, if he was there, or maybe he to me as well.
But there I briefly stood, examining photographs, as he was, next to Leonard Nemoy. I barely ever glimpsed his face.
Of course I didn't even let him know I was there, or recognized him. I have lived in LA and AMsterdam; I know what to do around celebrities: leave them alone.