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A spy catches motormouth auteur Quentin Tarantino kicking some cross-country-style game at LAX:

This past Friday night (11:30p) I was subjected to a jet-lagged, beret wearing Quentin Tarantino in the LAX United terminal after a flight from JFK. Walking like a hunchback (stooped over and walking with the posture of a Dr. Seuss character) and making a point to say "bye-bye" to a very hot, mini-skirt wearing Asian girl with whom he chatted the entire flight. What was stalker-ish is that he was walking back towards the deplaning at the gate, as if he might have forgotten something and "casually" bumped back into this girl. Needless to say, no indie-directing spawn of a winemaker in tow.

Even a stalker wouldn't try a weak move like pretending he forgot something to stage another clumsy encounter. Still, this was only slightly smoother than what Tarantino probably tried at the beginning of the trip: showing the girl his plane ticket and saying he was late for his trip to Heaven, and he needed an angel to show him the way.