I realize the strange guy I’m eating brunch next to is the filmmaker Ethan Coen. He’s more outgoing than I thought he’d be, but also kind of erratic.

He presses me about what I thought of “A Serious Man”. Rather than tell him my opinion, I theorize to him that the movie was an effort at emulating the method Shakespeare used to make Hamlet interesting.

He asks me gravely: “How did you know that?”

I tell him it’s obvious: The opening scene contains an indeterminately malicious or benevolent ghost, and the rest of the movie is the main character grappling with the mystery - to no avail.

He invites me to join him on the overnight ferry. We sleep in separate quarters, but I have to get up to urinate in the middle of the night. When I go to use the common bathroom, he is in there, sort of standing on the toilet seat with both his ass and feet on the seat. I apologize for intruding, but I don’t exactly hurry to close the door. We both smile, and it’s not too awkward. I understand that this is just the way he likes to shit (and he can tell that I understand).