Baldwin and Me

I was just about to take the left turn onto the FDR at Houston St. when a car with Maryland plates completely cut me off with zero regard for the stop sign and the zipper effect. Not in the mood to flick a bird and curse like a sailor (or like Maria!), I just smirked and offered a cranky "thumbs up" as Maryland zoomed past. I then took my turn, entered the torrent of the FDR, and changed the radio channel from 1st Wave to BackSpin when Maryland started to zag, slow, and seemingly stall as I passed, cautiously, on the left. Maryland then aggressively pulled behind me and tailed for a bit before it was able to pull up along side. I rolled down the window and started to scream, “What the fuck?” when I noticed the car was full of teenagers, excluding the driver (who looked about 20-something), and they were all beaming and pointing and waving like Beatles fans. Maryland’s driver, full of joy, happier than happy, screamed out his opened window, “Alec Baldwin!” and then, pause, “Oh, we thought you were Alec Baldwin,” seemingly disappointed. I apologized, offered a winking "thumbs up," and took the Brooklyn Bridge exit. Every now and again these encounters happen… But I was left with a lasting insecurity: I’m 12 years younger than Baldwin is! What the hell?