Back in July, I revealed what I called “Reason #437” for my being a big dork. It had to do with not saying hello to Paul Scheer after unintentionally walking behind him for several blocks after we both left a performance of Glengarry Glen Ross on Broadway. Well, I’m sure that there have been at least 240 more reasons since then that would help solidify my dorkitude, but today’s absurd situation is the first one I’ve chosen to reveal.
Today I was walking east down Houston St. approaching Sixth Ave. As I was getting to the corner, I saw this petite woman walking with a tall guy north on Sixth perpindicular to me. She looked really familiar, but I wasn’t sure if I was right. She looked like a friend of mine with whom I used to work at a small talent agency in Beverly Hills. I probably haven’t seen or spoken to her in at least seven years, and I have no idea where she might be. She’s around my age — maybe even a year or two older; I can’t remember — although she certainly never looked it. She was always a bit bubbly, but not in a ditzy way, and as I walked past, I did about three double takes. She leaped in front of a discarded Christmas tree, starting to pose in a goofy way so that the guy she was with could take her picture, but he seemed to be having some camera issues.
My friend’s name is Nina Barry. She was originally from New York, but was still living in LA when I last spoke to her, and if I remember correctly, she had no real desire to move back her. Her father is the playwright PJ Barry; her brother Matthew has been a successful casting director for some time, and her other brother Neill is an actor. The last conversation I had with Nina I seem to remember was about how much she hated the musical Rent. This was back when it was still relatively new — only 2-3 years into its successful hype.
How am I a dork (if it isn’t already obvious)? Because instead of shouting, “Hey Nina!” or even walking up to her and saying, “Hey, are you Nina Barry?” my lame ass suddenly decided to walk away rather than risk being wrong. Yeah … that’s really really lame. Maybe lame enough, in fact, to be pushed up to reason #1! I did the google search and the Friendster and MySpace searches, but the only “Nina Barry” who came up was a 25 year old artist who seemingly lives close to me in Brooklyn (or at least she went to Pratt so she used to live in the ‘hood).
So, if by some chance somebody who knows the Nina I’m talking about comes across this post, I would appreciate it if you would contact her and embarass me to her or email me with a way to email her so that I can take my shame further and actually say hi. And yeah, if Nina isn’t in New York and that wasn’t her … whew. But I’d still love to reconnect.
Out of Focus 
ha, this is funny – because i am that 25 year old nina barry who lives in the ‘hood. sorry i’m the one that found this, and not the nina you were looking for. I do however, also hate Rent. Anyhow – best of luck finding your friend.
LikeLike
Hi: I’m Nina Barry’s great uncle, Milt, who grew up in New York City and now live in White Plains. The guy Nina was walking with is Chris Gorak, her new husband, Spielber’s former set designer and the writer/director of a new movie, At Your Door, bought by Lion’s Gate, I believe. Nina is now doing voice overs and is pregnant. She is still petite and cute and smart. She and Chris are coming to my son’s wedding in White Plains and I’ll inform her of your jottings, if she hasn’t already been informed. For more info, give me an email and I’ll give it back! –Milt
LikeLike