My Celebrity Encounter

  As I sat and wrote in my journal at the airport last night, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a woman sit across from me. Most of her outfit was reminiscent of something Poison Ivy might wear, but much less attractive. She also had on a camo hat that said "FRESH" in glitter lettering for reasons unknown to mankind. She immediately asked me what my sign is.

  "Libra," I said without looking up.

  "Oh, so you love to read!" She said.

  "Yes," I said, still not looking up from my journal.

  "I'm a writer!" She said cheerily. I looked up, wondering if I was, in fact, meeting an author that I knew, and would then learn a valuable lesson about judging talkative people at the airport.

  "Really? That's cool," I said, still writing while I talked.

  The woman then handed me a small paper book. And when I say "paper", I don't need paperback. I mean construction paper. The kind of book my mom would help me make when I was seven and wrote things with titles like, "Timmy the Broken Crayon", which was a total rip-off of one of my favorite books at the time. Her book had a clip-art picture of a fairy on the moon on the cover.

  I can't remember the title for the book, but I do remember that it was by Marcia Moonstar. At this point I began to pray Lincoln would push the stroller back to my area so McKay could talk to Ms. Moonstar. He's been known to have full conversations with drunk people on the metro.

  "Can you believe water is three dollars a bottle here?!" Marcia Moonstar said.

  "Mmm," I said.

  "I had some coffee earlier and now I'm a bit hyped up!" said Marcia Moonstar. Everything she said ended with an exclamation point. I was wondering whether she added cream and crack to her coffee.

  Finally, McKay and Lincoln did wander over.

  "Oh, so he's YOURS!" Marcia Moonstar said. "What's your little  boy's sign?"

  "I don't know," I said honestly, "His birthday is January 14th."

  "I think that's Capricorn!" Marcia Moonstar exclaimed.

  "Could be, sure," I said, now transcribing our conversation into my journal.

  "What are you writing?!" Marcia Moonstar said.

  "I've kept a journal since 6th grade," I said, clutching its edges, worried she might run over and snatch it out of my grasp.

  "Oh. No poetry?" She said, clearly disappointed in me.

  "No, I don't do poetry," I said.

  "Well, I write fabulous poems," She said.

  "Who's your favorite poet?" McKay asked politely.

  "ME!" She said. She then admitted she didn't read many other people's poetry. I was somehow unsurprised.

   Luckily another victim sat by Marcia Moonstar at that point and was immediately asked her sign. Upon hearing that the newcomer was a Scorpio, Marcia Moonstar said, "Oh, I have a poem that you would LOVE!" as she pulled out another paper book of poems.