The Importance of Being Cera (part 2)

(NOTE:  If you haven't already, you should read Part 1 of this strange saga.)

Tonight, I saw Scott Pilgrim vs. The World for the third time.  A friend from school (Zachary Clemente, a true hero) had told me that a comic shop was giving out passes, as well as that Edgar Wright, the director, would be at this screening.  I was completely alright with seeing the movie again and I think Edgar Wright's a brilliant director, so this was a no-brainer.  I met up with a few other friends from school, and we arrived early this afternoon to get good spots in line.

As always, the movie was fantastic.  Then, there was a Q&A session afterwards with Edgar Wright and "special guests."  Said special guests turned out to be Michael Cera, Jason Schwartzman and Anna Kendrick.  They all sat on stools at the front of the theater, took questions and cracked wise.  It felt strange being in the same room as Michael Cera, given how much I've been compared to him lately.

I realized that this was probably going to be my only shot at closure.  Towards the end of the Q&A, I finally raised my hand.  I knew almost instinctively that as soon as I did, I would be called on, as I was the only one wearing one of Cera's character's shirts (a shirt that Wright had referenced earlier in the session).

And I was.

I stood up and said "This is a question for Michael, and a selfish one at that," then proceeded to explain the perceived likeness that had dogged me, asking if I could get a picture with him (either then or after the session) to resolve the thing once and for all.

He said "sure" and made a joke about me needing to kill him to really stop the problem at its root, while Wright invited me to come on the press junket in Cera's place.  Cera told me I was a handsome man, an audience member yelled that the actor was more handsome, and it became kind of clear that I wasn't getting my picture right then.

When the session got out, however, the celebs were immediately escorted out the fire exit, while the audience was ushered through the normal doors.  One of my friends (Max) and I decided to book it out of the theater and run around the back of the block to see if we could catch them leaving.  Another friend (Madeleine) rushed behind us, apologizing to everyone we'd whizzed past.  We got to the rear exit just in time to find no indication whatsoever of anyone remotely resembling myself. 

As we stood on the sidewalk, wondering what to do, a black SUV with tinted windows rolled past and stopped at the corner.  One of the promoters who'd doubled as security during the Q&A jumped out, pointed at me and beckoned.  My friends and I jogged over, and Michael Cera himself walked out from around the far side of the SUV.

"Hey," he said.  "Glad I caught you."

So I got my picture - hell, I got two.  He signed one of the wristbands that was part of my Scott Pilgrim costume (as I thanked him profusely), as well as the tickets of a few people who'd seen him and jogged over.  Before a crowd could gather, though, the promoter announced "Sorry, Michael has to go."  I thanked Cera again, high-fived him, and as quickly as he'd appeared, he left.

As we were walking away, one of the theater workers who was clearly managing the event ran into me and said that Michael had asked for my name and address, thinking he'd missed me.  I explained that I'd actually run into him but gave my info anyway, all the while thanking them for running such a fun event.

So now, I've finally met the guy everyone tells me I look like.  And you know what?  He's pretty damn nice.  Maybe I shouldn't get defensive when someone new says "Hey, you remind me of that awkward kid."  Now, I can chuckle and say "Yeah?  Maybe.  You be the judge."

Today's song:  Just click it while the story's fresh in your mind.

No More Heroes - Righteous, Triumphant, Et Cetera

Today's thing:  This was pretty much an all-day adventure.  IT COUNTS.  A LOT.