Celebrity Sighting #14

I was in the bathroom of the airport having my usual "I'm going to be trapped for a a while, I must pee" moment when I saw in the corner of my eye what I thought was my friend Megan. Of course I'm terrible at this considering I think everyone is someone that I'm familiar with. It didn't occur to me until much later that Megan has an international airport about twenty minutes from where she lives, why the hell would she be in my neck of the woods.

So I wander to my place in line to get on the plane(Southwest has that line of Group 1-30 on the right and 31-60 on the left. Being 34 I was prime in my front of line spot and could slip right in. As I do so I think "man that looks like Patton Oswalt I gotta stop staring at.... holy crap that is HIM!" Being at the front of the line I look around to see if anyone else has that flash of "Oh my god...oh mygod..." Yeah, the "Megan" girl was behind me and I saw nothing in her eyes. But I did look around and there was Andy Richter. Wha...Wha...What? By this point I was pissed becasuse if I didn't have my peeing anxiety, I could have spoken to these giants of awesome. 

I get on the plane and wonder, should I do something? Will I regret not saying anything or am I just creepy person trying to touch those who have used artistic talent in ways I could never? Richter was too close to the front and I couldn't say anything without holding up those behind me. My urge to not be "that guy" won out my urge to say hello. And before I couldn even sit down, Oswalt had his eyes closed. Can't do it now. 

So when the plane took off, I was lost in my magazine and praying that my panic attacks would stay at a minimum. Since the Burbank airport is so freaking tiny, they let us off on two parts of the plan and we took stairs down. As I waiting in line roughly one foot from Patton Oswalt, I lock eyes with a guy still seated. I kind of gesture my head forward and he smiles and mouths "Andy Richter" and points to the front. I mouth back "I know!" Finally! Someone in nerd mode like me. 

I was walking parallel with Remy (okay, borderline stalking him) but it's so freaking loud, I can't say anything. In the airport though I muster all I can and say what's in my heart. "I would kick myself if I didn't take this opportunity, but thank you for all of your work." He looks at me and and says "Thank you for saying that."

And that's all I wanted. And I did it! Go me! Time to get my bags. And lo and behold, the best of the Richter Quintuplets waiting as well. I asked him if this was the right spot to get the luggage from flight 244. (Which if Lost has tought me anything, it's everyone knows their flight number.) He said I think so and I say "thanks and by the way, big fan." He said thank you. (Yes. The irony was not lost on me that I told him and not Patton Oswalt that I was a big fan. I can't be That Guy either.) 

So by this point I'm waiting for my bags and bopping my head to the music very pleased with myself. It occurs to me that it's to the song Dreaming by Blondie and that song is totally lame. When I hear he starts to whistle it. Hmmm. Good enough for him. 

I'm just proud that I have this moment to look back on and know that I wasn't a wuss. I also know that I don't need an autograph or picture to get the warm fuzzies. It'll fade with time like happiness from parties and celebrations, but my speaking up is an accomplishment I plan to use for future needs of courage.