I’ve eaten at Giorgio Baldi twice…no, three times. The first time was 10 or 11 years ago with Hurt Locker screenwriter Mark Boal (Zero Dark Thirty was years off at the time). Clint Eastwood and Sean Penn were sharing an indoor table. Three or four years later I ate there on my own dime, and then returned again in ’16 or thereabouts. It’s pricey but excellent. The Dover Sole is heavenly — moist and light, bursting with flavor, sprinkled with lime.
But I’ll tell you one thing. If I was rich or famous enough to have a security guy with me, and if he were to gently place his hand on my back as I stepped into the waiting SUV, I would probably stop and turn around and ask, “Why are you putting your hand on my back?”
HE: Why did you place your hand on my back as I was stepping into the car?
Security: We’re just here for you, sir. No issues.
HE: What are you trying to do, guide me into the car?
Security: Just an instinct, sir. We’re right behind you.
HE: I know you’re right behind me, but don’t touch me.
HE: It’s okay. Just don’t do it.
Security: Okay. Understood.
HE: I’ve been stepping into SUVs all my life.
Security: Of course.
HE: I’m sure you’re a good man.
Security: I try to be.
HE: And you are.
Security: Yes sir.
HE: Okay, good.