Living in California, you might imagine I bump into famous people all the time. Unfortunately, Northern California is not nearly as good for star spotting as Southern California, where you could very well be standing behind Sarah Jessica Parker in line for a cappuccino in the morning, eat lunch two tables away from Brad and Jennifer, and see Jack Nicholson at sunset in the dog park, scooping up poo with a little doggy shovel.

Here in San Francisco we have Robin Williams, whose house I used to drive past every morning on my way to my old job. One morning, very early, I actually saw him walk out to a waiting limousine, a small, surprisingly dour-looking man in a nice suit. I was so excited I almost crashed into a paper van. I also saw Danny Glover in a supermarket once, buying a watermelon of all things. And when I was waitressing in North Beach, the Italian neighborhood, Francis Ford Coppola barked at me. I had brought him and his companion a couple of beers, which the flustered bartender insisted I not charge him for. When I told the great director that the beers were on the house, he glared up at me from beneath wild brows and snarled, "Why are they on the house?" Mortified, I mumbled something. It was hours later before I realized the perfect response would have been, "because we like your films, Mr. Scorcese."

Famous people are a different breed than ordinary mortals; We see them on TV. We critique their outfits as they saunter up the red carpet on Oscar night, and once in a while we might catch the merest glimpse of them in real life, buying a paper, say, or shopping in a baseball cap that fools no one. The point is, very few of us have famous friends. Our worlds simply don't intersect much.

Now I know someone who has a very famous friend, and I'm curious to know what it's like. I was at dinner with Mona the other night and I interrogated her about this woman's wedding, which she attended a few months ago. I was agog at her tales of celebrity foibles and paparazzi dodging. For example, the wedding ceremony had to be moved just hours before the event because a clever magazine journalist pretending to be the caterer called the bride's mother and discovered the location. When the planners arrived to set up, helicopters with telephoto lens were already circling.

I am sure the actress is well known in Ireland. She's one of the stars of the hottest comedy here at the moment, which is getting bigger than the hugely popular Friends. This woman is on TV at least once a night; if its not the show, its an ad for the show, or she's on Entertainment Tonight going to the Golden Globes. Oh and she also does commercials for a hair coloring product that I dont for one second believe she actually uses.

But rather than being tickled and pleased to see her friend on TV all the time, Mona said she tries to avoid it. She doesn't watch the show, and she switches the channel if a story appears about her on ET. She said she doesn't want to have her friend become The Star in her mind. She is afraid that seeing her as this larger than life character will somehow reduce her to a two-dimensional personality and take away her realness. Also, Mona doesnt want to feel cowed or shy in her presence, as in, Oh my God, this Hollywood person really wants to talk to me.

It just goes to show that famous people and ordinary people were not meant to mix. Yes, we'll cheer when they walk on stage in front of our eyes, or we'll do a double take if we pass one in the street, and maybe well even line up for autographs once in a while. But that's where it should stay. I understand Mona's reluctance to let her friend's fame change how she feels about her, or affect her ability to be natural around her. And it makes me feel for the first time that it must kind of suck to be famous.