Dear Tom Hiddleston,

I feel that I must apologize to you for the events that occurred on the sidewalk of Hollywood Boulevard on March 22, 2016. Earlier that day, I had found out through various social media outlets that you would be in Hollywood that evening for the movie premiere of your biopic about Hank Williams called "I Saw the Light."

It was 7:30 p.m., and I was outside Grauman’s Egyptian Theater, peering into the courtyard, where I could only see the back of your head. You and all of the stars and guests then filed into the theater away from the red carpet, so I decided to sit on the sidewalk and wait for you to come out of the theater when your movie was over. As I waited there, I chatted with my dad, the security guards and two other people left behind from the premiere barricade. The stragglers were hoping to see Elizabeth Olsen, another star of the film, as she came out of the theater, and they were clutching Scarlet Witch action figures for her to sign. I realized the only thing I had with me for you to potentially autograph was my paperback copy of "The Night Manager" I had just started reading.

After two hours, I grew excited as a crowd of people finally emerged from the theater entrance. Eventually coming to the conclusion that you were not going to come out of the theater this way, my dad and I awkwardly followed premiere goers on foot to the after-party at Sadie Kitchen and Lounge across the street. It was 10 p.m. at this point.

I waited and waited, unfortunately wearing shorts and sandals in the chilly night outside the restaurant in the parking lot. This time, my dad and I had 10 professional autograph seekers as company. The fact that these professionals were still there waiting proved to me that you were, in fact, there at the after party. Each of them had several large copies of Loki pictures in their hands for you to sign. I overheard some of them mentioning that you had declined to give them autographs earlier in the day, due to your suspicions that they would later sell the autographs.

Around 11:55 p.m., a black Lincoln Navigator pulled up as close to the entrance of the restaurant as possible, almost as if the driver were getting ready to catch you as you jumped into it.

You were the last one to leave the afterparty. As you walked outside with security guards flanking you, your face and eyes, typically full of happiness in your photographs, immediately formed a look of sheer disappointment, not anger, sadness or frustration. It was easy to tell you had higher hopes for humanity, yet here we all were, a strange-looking bunch waiting outside for you in the middle of the night. I backed up at that moment, realizing suddenly how creepy and stalker-like my behavior was becoming. For what happened next, I would like to apologize to you on behalf the stranger-dangers around me. They swarmed around you with pictures and sharpies and "Tom!s," almost like an Ancient Greek phalanx formation, as you took a few long strides to the safety of your Navigator with your arms over your head to protect yourself from the mayhem.

I looked inside the blacked-out windows of the Navigator only to faintly see your hand raised and waving. I am not sure to whom you were waving, but I like to think you were waving at me - the girl holding "The Night Manager," looking confused and cold behind the frantic Loki-toting people.

The image I now have of you in my memory during this stressful situation is different than the one I had from seeing online pictures and interviews of you that were clearly taken with your permission. That night, you simultaneously gave me full proof of your existence (outside of movie/internet-land) and of your humanity. Loki from "Thor" and "The Avengers,"and Jonathan Pine from "The Night Manager" are fun and exciting characters for you to play on the screen, but they are not real. They are not you. You are a human being, just like the rest of us, who needs personal space and down time. I know this all sounds ridiculously obvious, but apparently this was not obvious to me (or the others!) that night when we made our decisions to wait for you. I am sure the strangers who were around me that night did not give a second thought to what they were doing to you, which is terrible.

Although I want to express my gratitude to you in person for your hard work and beautiful art, there is definitely a better time and place for this than at midnight outside of a restaurant entrance where you are trapped. For this, I am very sorry to have crossed over the line between ‘acceptable’ and ‘creepy’ by leaving you no other option but to jump into an escape vehicle.

Thank you for your understanding,

Milena

P.S. I will continue to share information about your collaboration with UNICEF to help children all over the world with getting a good quality education, including this recent video of yours: