Last night, my boyfriend said he was in the mood for a “shit ton of vegetables” for dinner and that he was craving Angelica’s Kitchen. Now, I like vegetables. I prefer meat and/or candy over vegetables, but I like vegetables just fine. So we went to the famed vegan eatery and I blindly ordered something called “Climbing Up the Walnut,” which was described as “velvety”, whatever. So I was pushing tempe around on my plate with chopsticks and sucking down Mu 16 tea, reminding myself that Vegans are super skinny and have shiny hair, and in walks the ultimate vegan: Moby! For some reason, this left me far more star-struck than I normally feel (more than when I saw Jordan Catalano at a party last week) and I think it’s because seeing Moby at Angelicas Kitchen was like seeing a cheetah hunt its prey in the Serengeti, truly in it’s element.
What happened next was what really made this a notable celeb siting. The restaurant had gotten crowded since we’d been seated, and Moby was made to wait! I felt like i was watching Mark McGuire wait to use a batting cage, or like Kelly Clarkson was waiting behind me to sing Karaoke. I wanted to stand up and tell he hostess, “Give him my seat, Thats Moby! Also, what the hell is this brown stuff I’m eating!? Where’s the nearest halal truck?!” but I restrained myself and instead, just kept sharing my oddly vast Moby-knowledge with my boyfriend; “His real name is Richard Mellville Hall, get it Mellville… Moby…. Dick…. Richard…. get it” All the while watching Moby graciously shake hands and answer the questions of excited NYU students also waiting for a table.
Moby was finally seated by the time I’d finished the last of my odd-tasting beets. He settled in at a communal table with his dining partner with weird sideburns and politely ordered his food from his waitress and seemed totally at ease around those of us who’d never feuded with Eminem or collaborated with Gwen Stefani. What a great guy, that Moby.