Famous People

There are a lot of people in this world. Unless you are a severe agoraphobic, blind, or a hermit on a small, isolated island, seeing them is unavoidable. Whether you’re driving down the street or walking to your local grocery store, it’s largely inevitable; you and a bunch of random people will cross paths. Sometimes its awkward (whoops, we made eye contact, quickly look the other way), sometimes its delightful (chick in black dress, 2 o’clock), and sometimes it’s completely surprising and unexpected, like when you see a person of considerable celebrity in a place you weren’t expecting.

Spending a lot of time in Washington D.C. makes this final occurrence somewhat frequent, though the “celebrities” I see are generally politicians who I have trouble recognizing or little interest in engaging. Unlike sports, movie, or music stars, I can’t really tell them that I’m a fan of their work. “Senator, your vote to invoke cloture motion on H.R. 386 — simply amazing” just doesn’t seem right. Though any forced interaction might be boring, it is at least the politicians’ job to handle such approaches in a professional and dignified manner. Other celebrities, however, are less bound by this obligation. Though some musicians and athletes may feel compelled to humor their fans by giving autographs, taking pictures, and generally accepting massive intrusions on their lives when they go out in public, many must hate it altogether. I kept this in mind on Monday.

Yesterday, while eating at The Cherry Cricket in Denver, we spotted George Karl, coach of the Denver Nuggets (sure, not the biggest celebrity, but definitely a prominent figure in Denver). He was sitting down, enjoying a meal with what appeared to be his wife, or at least a woman who appeared to be around his age. As we looked over and contemplated going to meet him, he looked back with a glare that seemed to say “don’t blow up my spot, dickheads.” Nobody else seemed to notice who he was, so we decided to let Mr. Karl continue eating in peace. When he got up to leave, he slipped out unnoticed; not even the woman holding the door looked at him twice. I’m sure he was happy to have a quiet lunch, though I can’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing I was: “Do you people know who I am? I’m kind of a big deal.” Just in case Mr. Karl is reading this, I noticed you, buddy, and I could have ruined your lunch for an autograph and a good “famous people I’ve met” story. Now, all I have is this. You’re welcome.