I Miss Meg Ryan

It's funny, I don't really like Meg Ryan. I mean, I don't hate her. I wouldn't name a bunch of kittens after her and then drown them or anything. But I don't think I've ever said, "Ooh! A Meg Ryan movie! Let's go see it right now!" Still, I miss looking out the window and seeing Meg Ryan. The film crew were only shooting on Newbury Street Monday and Tuesday, and they've long since packed up and moved on. Now it's boring around here.

Last year, we could at least peer out the window whenever the Yankees were in town, since a lot of them stayed across the street at the Ritz. But ever since the hotel changed ownership and names to The Taj, the Yankee sightings have stopped.

Then there was that car that caught on fire in the exact same spot where Meg Ryan filmed her taxi scene just a little over a year later.

But now, now I look outside and nothing's going on. A guy just pulled up in an orange MINI convertible with black racing stripes and a number 33 on the hood and doors, but ...wait, is that Herbie the Love Bug's number? No, that's 53. So what's this guy's deal? It doesn't matter, he just drove away.

It's quiet. Too quiet. Uneventful. I haven't even seen Tricycle Man in a while.


So Meg, forget what I said before. I do like you. Heck, I need you. I need the whole crew outside to distract me from the boring crap I'm supposed to be doing. I'm sure you could do a few more takes of the taxi driving away. What to you say? For what it's worth, I liked Innerspace.

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