Come Tuesday...

So I'm at work today, working with a customer on the phone, when I see a gentleman strolling to the back of the store with my boss. He looks familiar, but I can't place him, and I was trying to both help the customer on the phone AND wrack my brain to try and figure out who he was, when my boss says, "Hey, you guys, it's Jimmy Buffett!". Ahh, THAT would be why he was familiar.

He shook hands with everybody, and was looking at guitar tuners - you know, since he needed a tuner for his stratocaster because he's going to start working on an album tomorrow, and stuff. He talked with everyone, while I was still stuck on the phone with the same customer. I wanted to say, "Jimmy Buffett is here! Can I call you back?" but I didn't. He was getting ready to leave when I finally got off the phone, and he was shaking hands one last time so I snuck in. Everyone else was talking about where or when they had seen him play live, but I had never seen him play live, so when he shook my hand all I could say was, "I've read your books". It's true, I have.

He was busy contributing to the local economy, apparently, because he had a huge shopping bag from the jewelry store across the street (I mean huge - I wouldn't think a jewelry store would have a bag that big - I mean, it's jewelry). He had to leave in a hurry because he was meeting his sister for lunch and didn't want to be late. So there you go!

That was my brush with fame today. Well, that and speaking with Mrs. Fetterman (widow of Admiral Fetterman, and somewhat famous locally), who was telling a charming story about her friend Tom Benson, who just happens to own the New Orleans Saints.

I love this town sometimes, I really do.