Let's Call a Spader a Spader

So On Sunday night I went out to dinner with my my Best Girl at a nice, old-timey steakhouse in Korea Town. The meal was delicious. At the end of the evening Aimee had to powder her nose so I waited for her near the entrance, collecting some mints and toothpicks for the ride home. As I was milling about I noticed that a gaggle of old ladies sitting at a table near the front door were starring at me. At first I thought maybe my pants were split down the ass or something, but then I realized that these old women were looking at me with the neck craned, half-turned in their seat posture of someone who thinks they are seeing a celebrity.

I had no idea who these women thought I was but it was a little disconcerting being glared at by five old women, so I casually ducked around a corner into the little vestibule that the front door opens into. This hiding space also afforded me the opportunity to pick my teeth in solace. I was using my newly acquired toothpick and the reflective surface of a picture frame to go to town on my teeth when one of the old ladies popped her head around the corner like some sort of gobblin. The following is an exact transcript of our conversation:

OLD LADY: Excuse me, I hate to bother you, but are you James Spader?
ME: What? No. No, I'm not.
OLD LADY: Are you sure?
ME: Yes. I'm sorry. I'm not James Spader
OLD LADY: Oh. That is so embarrassing!
ME: It's okay. Don't worry about it.
OLD LADY: Well, if you were James Spader I was going to tell you that I think you're the best actor on television.
ME: Well, thank you. Sorry, I'm not James Spader.
OLD LADY: No, I'm sorry to bother you. You have a good night.
ME: You too.
The old lady disappears. The Hostess, who has witnessed this entire exchange from her station, stares at me intently.
HOSTESS: You're not?!

And Fin.

This is the Bizzarro World version of the conversation that I instantly regretted not having:

OLD LADY: Well, if you were James Spader I was going to tell you that I think you're the best actor on television.
ME: Well, darling, I'm also the best actor in the restaurant, because I am James Spader.

I was really taken aback by the whole thing because I don't usually get "you look like Famous Person X." Not like Jeff, who is hounded by childlike shrieks of "Harry Potter!" where ever he goes. I guess I can see James Spader, what with the floppy hair I've been sporting these days, but, come on, the guy is 20 years older than me, about a foot shorter, and 95lbs lighter.

This incident, along with the time I was out to lunch with some people from work and the rich old lady at the next table thought I was the father of one of my co-workers who is two years younger than me, leads me to believe that, for some reason, I look 45-years-old to women over 65.