A Brush with Fame

While vacationing last week, my husband and I ducked into a little café for a cup of delicious cold brew coffee, air conditioning and a rest. As we are sitting there, an actor from one of the shows we watch together walked in. We reacted how any reasonable and reserved adult would in this situation – we giggled like little schoolgirls.

Me: [whispering in an absurdly loud voice] Is that Daryl from The Walking Dead?

Husband: What?

Me: [still whispering, but even louder now] Is that Daryl from The Walking Dead?

Husband: Where?

Me: Up there at the counter.

Husband: I can’t see his face.

Me: I think it is. I think that is Daryl. Wait for him to turn around. Don’t stare! [staring]

Husband: [also staring] I think that is him. He is taking a selfie. We are in the background of his selfie!

Me: Oh my gosh. Look up a photo of him so we can be sure. I can’t remember his real name. [It is Norman Reedus, FYI.]

Husband: [comparing with his phone] Oh yeah, that is him.

Me: This is so cool. It is so going on twitter and facebook.

Me and Husband: [squee! More indecipherable loud whispering]

The subject of our giggling left the café and we joked about chasing him down the street yelling “Daryl! Daryl!” at the top of our lungs. We didn’t, of course. We at least have that much self control. It was fun though. Seeing an actor from an excellent show was a treat, but the best part of the moment was acting like an idiot with my husband.


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