Awkward brushes with fame

So last night, we went to a reading of the new book by the Kitchen Sisters. They are two journalists, who for many years now, have been going around America chronicling hidden kitchens for NPR. What is a hidden kitchen? It's kind of a covert supply of food for those needing something cheap, fast, and good. But as we all know, you can't have all three. At least not at the same level. But it's much more than that. It's refuge, it's activism. It's making the best of what you got when you're out fishing all day. Try here for a good primer: http://www.kitchensisters.org/about.htm

Anyhow, we arrive at A Clean Well Lighted Place for Books a few minutes early, to find a lovely spread of cheeses, fruit, and wine. My tall companion has already spotted the beverage area, and is in the process of emptying one Cab (not Yellow) when this portly gentlemen approaches the other side of the table, ostensibly to get wine for his friends. As Trevor and I are standing opposite him, it becomes my immediate opinion that we are his friends, and he must be opening that second red for me!

His backdrop is the beautiful and extensive children's section. Trevor remembers it would be nice to have a copy of Peter and the Wolf for this year's Storytime/Holiday/Housewarming party. I'm waiting for Mr. Portly Gentleman to pour me a glass of wine (why else could he be there??) and Trevor is asking the bookseller guy if he can find Peter and the Wolf. We find Peter and the Wolf, and it is some willy nilly overly descriptive version, wherein the Cat and the Duck are not just friends, but appear to have had spiritual and intellectual discussions in the past. This is not the book we want. Pshaw!

Comments are made about the appropriateness of wine in the children's section, and I assure Mr. Portly (and dare I say Unassuming) Gentleman that they check id's at the Harry Potter readings. This brings him to comment that the most recent Harry Potter movie is quite good, did you see it? And what a great little feminist Hermione is. And girls need role models like that. And I say, yeah, it wasn't cool to be smart when I was in junior high. He says, yes, luckily, school doesn't last!

And we go away, wine and cheese in hand; I'm thinking we've had some relatively clever conversation with just another Portly Unassuming Gentleman from the brownstones of Nob Hill.

Imagine my horror, when halfway through the reading, the Kitchen Sisters ask Armistead Maupin to come up and read an excerpt of the book. Trevor is accosted with my nudging and excitement. I'm whispering urgently to him, "Armistead Maupin!!! I love him! He wrote Tales of the City!! He is so awesome!! He got me through a year of Phoenix-Tucson commutes!!"

"Yeah, he's the guy that gave us the wine at the beginning too."

You would think a Cab would bring color to your face, but no, all color was gone. I was standing at a table, expectantly waiting for Armistead Maupin to hand me my hard-earned, long-awaited-for wine. I guess you get your due from unexpected places.

There are more of these. I am regularly in the position of embarrassing myself in front of famous people. But your time in Ms. Nelson's neighborhood is over. Maybe next time.