Kevin Spacey

So I'm walking around London on Ufford St trying to get back to Blackfriars Rd when I come upon a man jiggling the handles of every car he's passing by. I stop and light a smoke (this was back when I smoked, but I can't remember when) and wait for him to notice that I'm watching him looking for an unlocked car that is obviously not his.

He doesn't notice me and passes within 2 feet of me. Finally, two cars down from me, he stops and looks back. It's an obviously inebriated Kevin Spacey. Not surprising, really, considering the Old Vic is somewhere around here. His head bobbing in the haze of whatever he was drinking (I'm no pro, but I think it was absinthe mixed with Jose Cuervo), he looks in my general direction, gestures to the current car he is trying to break into and mumbles something about his dog was in the car, so he needs to get her out.

I smile and nod politely then continue on my way. I hadn't taken more than 3 steps when I hear the smashing of a car window and turn to see Mr. Spacey frantically crawling through the newly opened window.

I DID IT!! I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!!!

I wait for a minute and smoke the rest of my cigarette. When it was clear that he wasn't going to accomplish much else inside the car, I crept over to the window and peered in. He was passed the fuck out, head in the backseat, feet resting on top of the steering wheel. There was no dog in sight.
I made it back to my hotel in one piece and American Beauty was available to rent.

London was nice. The food, not so much.