Seems that a friend of mine from work ran into Ethan Hawke at a screening of Romance and Cigarettes at the Film Fest. He apparently rolled into town and then rolled up on some Toronto hottie at a party later on too. Why oh why am I always sick when all the fun happens.
Bah!
Only kidding. There was just a small part of me (love for my RRBF aside) that screamed, “Noooo, that could have been meeeee! In another life and in the chicklit novel of my choosing.
Although it would have taken all of my good sense not to tell him to stop imitating Jack Kerouac and write his own book, but I digress.