A close encounter of the celebrity kind

This weekend when my friends and I were wasting time at Santana Row, we popped into one of two yoga shops. We were wandering around just browsing at stuff when a woman started talking to my friend who was wearing a Pitzer-Pomona sweatshirt (we are all Sagehens and alumni of Pitzer College.) She talked about the new dormitories and facilities on campus, which are all environmentally friendly, and which the woman described as being like a spa.

One of my friends asked the woman if she went to the Claremont Colleges, and she laughed as she said no, she was just there with someone else she knew. They chatted a bit longer and then we wandered on to another part of the store. And as we did, my one of my friend's suddenly realized the woman was not just any random person out shopping at Santana Row, but Brandi Chastain, Olympic soccer player. I would never have recognized her on my own, but we googled her on my phone and verified that it was likely her.

My brushes with celebrities have been few and far between, but maybe that's because I've never been too star struck about most celebrities. After all, just because someone can act or sing or play an instrument, that doesn't mean they are nice or interesting or fun person.

But I have a friend from Indiana who came to Los Angeles for grad school and was always on the lookout for stars. We went shopping at the Grove and Beverly Hills on weekdays in hopes of seeing someone famous, and hit up clubs they were rumored to frequent. She had much more luck than I did since she once had a pedicure at a spa at the same time as Demi Moore and her daughters. She also had brunch at a restaurant with some other famous person, though I can't recall if it was Nick Nolte or Clint Eastwood.

The first time I came close to seeing a celebrity was when I went to see a late-night showing of "Kill Bill" with another friend and stopped to use the restroom before we went into the theater. I emerged to my friend spouting off about seeing Cigarette Smoking Man from "X-Files." I just cursed my small bladder.

But I got my own turn my second year in graduate school when I was assigned to cover a movie junket for "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" for the Daily Trojan. I arrived early at some fancy Beverly Hills hotel where I sat around with a bunch of other journalists - college ones and professionals. I waited around for half a day for the PR people to let us know when it would be our turn and finally I got a message that I could go up to meet for one-on-one interviews with the actors and director. I headed to an elevator and none other than Jim Carrey walked in right behind me. I was quiet and tried not to act too awkward. He was quiet, too. And when we got off on the same floor, he was ushered into a room and I was approached by a PR person who told me they had cancelled the interviews for college press.

Instead they wanted the 40-plus people to gather in a room with all the actors - Kate Winslet, Elijah Wood, Kirsten Dunst, Carrey, Mark Ruffalo - and writer Charlie Kaufman and director Michel Gondry. Just a select few of us would have a chance to ask a question, and in the end I was not one of them. But it was still a pretty interesting experience, especially since "Eternal Sunshine" makes my list of great movies.

Now that I live back in the Bay Area, my brushes with celebrities are usually limited to the Cinequest film festival when I - and several hundred other people - have a chance to hear the Maverick Spirit Award winner talk about their filmmaking career. Next week, I'll be seeing Benjamin Bratt - albeit from a distance.