It was November 1996. I was on holiday in London with my friend-since-we-were-4 years old, Bill (his real name). It was a holiday of drunken debauchery that...well, as far as drunken debauchery goes, it was pretty lame, but we were having fun. The weather was getting chilly, and our days were spent alone (mine in various museums, his mostly at the Gap on Kensington High Street) but our evenings were spent blissfully together hanging out in gay bars and enjoying the theatre. We were in gay bars because Bill, being gay, preferred them. I actually had a bouncer or two question me, "Do you know this a gay bar?" I'd point at Bill and say " That's why I brought this queen!" Yes, it was a happy time.

So, we busied ourselves seeing plays with the likes of Maggie Smith, (I wanted to meet her and thank her for reproducing. Toby to be precise.) and Joe Fiennes. I had seen him the previous year in "A View From the Bridge" and found him marvelous and gifted. At that time, I was not yet finding Joe attractive, I mean I found him good looking, but I wasn't overly ga-ga about it. I was impressed by his acting, not his looks. I am glad for that now, because even though I find him heavenly, I can honestly say that it was his acting and his ability that made me appreciate him first. A Real Fan of Joe-that's me. (And I'm single for a change. Look me up.)

A day before I had gotten tickets for "The Herbal Bed", as Bill and I sat at supper, I was telling him about Joe and the RSC and how we really should go. He wasn't too keen, so then I told him - too bad, I got the tickets, and he was going anyway. So, after a day of Gap shopping (him) and a visit to the St. Thomas Operating Theatre Museum and the still being constructed Globe Theatre (me), we met back at our hotel to get ready for the theatre.

We were running late, and planned to eat after, so we rush right out to our nearest tube stop and board our train. This is the London Underground, and true to form, construction or some such held up the trains, so we sat in a tunnel for a good 20 minutes. Not planning for such holdups, and like I said we were running very late, by the time we got to the Barbican stop, the play was beginning, and we still had a short walk to get to the theatre.

So, we arrive and head down to The Pit. The play has begun, and we are indeed late. We are not the only people late, I am pleased to see. You can see the play on closed circuit video in the lobby area, and that's what I assumed we'd do until the second act. The usher, a very nice girl, said that because of where our seats were, she could sneak us in when the scene changed over in about 5 minutes. So, a bit before the scene ends, she asks us to follow her, and we do...right past the large photo of Ralph Fiennes as King John. We are taken into the theatre, and are waiting in this little space next to the risers.

The set was great, in that it took place not on stage, but directly in front of you...surrounded on 3 sides by seats. The exits and entrances for the audience were the same for the actors. So Bill, nice usher woman, and myself are standing inside this very dark entranceway, and I see Joe doing his thing on stage, looking all disturbed as Rafe Smith, haberdasher and Christian... 10 feet in front of me. The scene ends, and Joe begins WALKING RIGHT TOWARDS ME. Or rather, right toward his scripted exit point, which is where I am standing, now in awe. Before I know it, Joe walks next to me, and stands there in dramatic pause. (All right, he was waiting for his eyes to adjust to so he could find the door handle.) I grab Bill's leg, I don't know what he was looking at. Joe seemed to be very tall, which he seems to be when he's on stage, just not on the street when he's playing himself. I could feel him next to me..but I didn't touch him or anything. At that point, I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I hit Bill instead, who had no clue that Joe was STANDING RIGHT THERE. Then, Joe moved, and with a breeze, was gone out the door.

At that moment I became mesmerized with Joe. Odd, as it was the only time I didn't see his face. But at that moment I just felt something...In reality it was probably that feeling you get when the room is too crowded and people are invading your personal space...but I just decided then and there, after having Joe invade my personal space, that he was someone I would like to see more of, clothed or not.

So we get to our seats, and the play begins. Joe is very intense, as the character must be, and then it occurs to me that I don't even know if he likes girls. So, I ask Bill...who knows these things (stereotypical, but true) and he assured me that neither Joe or Ralph could possibly be gay. Particularly Ralph, he feels someone that intense would have been too conflicted and would have shuffled off this mortal coil long ago.

I enjoy the wonderful performance, and leave being completely enthralled by Joe. Well, ever since SiL, Bill has taken great enjoyment in telling people that he stood next to Joe Fiennes. He even got a bruise to prove it. As if he even knew what was going on...and I gave him the bruise.

That, in it's own convoluted glory, is how I stood next to Joe, a full 3 years before meeting Joe and even more time before getting Joe to sign his mum's book. It may seem I spend a lot of time trying to spend stolen moments with Joe, but that's not the case, and this first time was a complete accident. Boy did I get lucky. We capped the evening off with a series of Tequila shots with 2 other NYers that we met and a staggering long walk back to the hotel. (It seemed like a good idea at the time.) But it was a lovely holiday, and Joe turned out to be the high point for me. Bill's high point was buying the same sweaters at the Gap that he can get in NY, but paying twice the price for them. C'est la vie.

Joe, you are a wonderful guy to stand next to. If you ever see me in line again, feel free to come on over and queue with me, you big hunk of man, you. And that's the story of my first encounter with Joe. No NYPD, no peach and no rude fans to jazz it up a bit, but that's OK.