Danny Trejo, from all I've read, sounds like an awesome guy who's lived one packed life. I'd love to read his memoirs if he ever writes them.
Like Alex, living in New York for those three years got me pretty cool around celebrities--and I'd heard enough stories from my dad about them to know that the hype was just hype, but my one starstruck moment came on this night where I was completely tired and sitting on the steps outside a building at NYU at about 1030 at night when Martin Sheen walks by. I was alone, just taking a breather, so he probally thought I was a homeless dude or something. He said "hey" and I said "hey," and he keeps walking.
Now, like I said, I'm pretty cool about celebrites, but I'm also a huge, obsessive West Wing fan, and we'd only met eye contact for a second. He was much grayer and not as short as you'd think he'd be, but this was Bartlet. I had to know.
So I got up, followed after him (as he was probally twenty feet up the block), and I just go "I just go "Excuse me, are you Martin Sheen?" (luckily the only bit of lameness) and he says "Yes." We talk for a little bit about stuff; The West Wing and how it's awesome and my favorite show, the School of the Americas protest I saw him speak at in high school, how I had to leave school and stuff like that. He seems genuinly interested, which I appreciated. If, though, if I was any less exhausted, I probally would have been rambling on about Mrs. Landingham and Toby Ziegler and OMG ARE THEY REALLY GONNA KILL BARTLET?, totally laming myself out to the nth degree. (This was after the end of the sixth season.
But I don't. So we talk, and closing out with "I don't want to take too much of your time, I just wanted to say thanks," I depart. He thanks me for my kind words, and I head off.
So, in conclusion, I shook the hand of Josiah Bartlet. To this day, I still wonder if I dreamed all that shit up.