This morning, while at brunch in Old Montreal with the in-laws at Eggspectations, he walked in with an entourage of about 20 members of his “posse:” old high school friends and hangers-on, as well as some women with Russian accents and who looked as though they shopped at Boutique Seduction. He was sweating a fair bit and repeated touched his nose. One of his posse, an imposing man wearing a shiny track suit, loudly told the hostess that he was under the impression that the restaurant was to be cleared of all other patrons before his arrival.
The hostess apologised profusely, became flustered, and began stumbling over her English, trying to explain he wasn’t expected until noon. Ferrell leaned in toward her and asked, rather beligerantly, “Parlez-vous le Fucking American?”
The entire staff came up and quietly began ushering us all out. Our meals were on the house, due to the inconvenience.
Okay that didn’t happen, but he did come in with a small group, politely waited to be seated and came off as fairly genial.
Most of the celebrities I see tend to either be local or small-c celebrities in whom I happen to be interested. Ferrell would have to be the biggest name celebrity, of whom I’m a fan, that I’ve seen in person. No, I don’t get out much.
Oh, and somebody just had to get up and go to the bathroom just so she would walk past his table and discretely confirm that it was him, as she didn’t believe me at first.
*UPDATE* One of our dining companions, a local actor, has gotten a call from her agent to send her to an audition for the film. From what I understand, shooting began today. Obviously, Ferrell saw her in the restaurant and declared, “That woman, sitting near that idiot who keeps gawking at me, she MUST be in my movie!”