Seeing Stars

Believe it or not, there was a time in my life when I had a brief brush with fame. When I was 17, like most everyone else, I had to go on the requisite "college trips." I'm sure we all remember the pain that that was - praying that your parents wouldn't ask stupid questions on the tour (you know, all of those ridiculous notions like, "is there a lot of drinking on the weekends?," "is it safe here?," "where are the bathrooms?"), feeling so embarrassed because all of the "adult" college kids are staring at you with your parents (because the only thing college kids care about is what the high schoolers touring their campus are doing), and then yelling at your mom not to stand too close to you in the bookstore while you pick up the requisite super cool college tee that you will casually wear to soccer practice on Tuesday like you might have just spent the weekend in a freshman's dorm room sneaking beers and staring at the magnificence of fuzzy posters under a black light, even though you really stayed in a hotel and shushed your mother whenever she asked questions during "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer." Well, in the fall of my senior year, my dad and I headed up to Providence, Rhode Island for the Brown, Tufts, and Dartmouth tour. And, because my dad tends to be not only thrifty on fares, but also prefers not to miss too much work, I think we had to be at the Birmingham airport around 5:30 in the morning. Even in high school, when I actually had to be somewhere by 8:00 a.m., I was not a morning person. So, needless to say, 5:30 a.m. was tough - especially when I knew I was going to spend the whole day ducking my head in shame and hiding behind my bangs every time my father looked in the direction of a college kid. Then, as my father and I approached the counter, I noticed something very strange in the waiting area for our flight... ...And that strange apparition was Little Richard. Now, if you think that man's head looks big on television, you have no idea how surreal it seems in person and at 5:30 a.m. pre-caffeine. I also have to say that of all the famous and semi-famous people I thought I might meet one day, Little Richard was not on the list, nor had he ever crossed my mind beyond that moment when he showed up at Bo and Nora's wedding on "One Life to Live" and got Nora to overcome her cold feet and boogie down the aisle towards her man. Little Richard is actually from Alabama in case you're wondering about his presence in the Birmingham International Airport. (By the way, don't dwell to long on the "international" in that title. It's mainly for show.) Anyway, the story ends like this: I waved and smiled at him. He smiled back and said hello. Then a member of his entourage (yes, he still warrants an entourage, and a seemingly large one at that) gave me a book about God and a postcard-sized, autographed photo of Little Richard. We all got on the plane, and I promptly fell asleep. Yes, that's my encounter with celebrity in all its glory. Tomorrow, I might tell you the story of me and Robert Townsend, but most people probably need a day to google that name and realize that he is, indeed, someone who has been in movies and on TV.