Yesterday, the hubby and I returned from our short trip to Los Angeles to celebrate our first anniversary. We had a great time, but were ready to leave the sprawl and hassle of LA.
As we’re boarding the plane, the hubby says, that looks like Jack White. Indeed, a man several places ahead of us in line fit the bill: black pants, red shirt, black hair, pale skin. Since I am a small-town redneck to the core, the thought of being on a plane with a famous person thrilled me to no end. I even let myself imagine that the hubby and I would be sitting in the same row (row 22, that is) as our fellow passenger and Nashville-ian, whereby I would then ask him if he could recommend a good babysitter in this town.
While all of these ridiculous thoughts are bouncing around my LA-exhausted head, mystery gentleman turns to the side. Lo and behold, it totally is Jack White, no mistaking it. The thrill increases. The hubby rolls his eyes at how easily I get starstruck. He, on the other hand, is impressed by no one, least of all famous people.
We board the plane, and of course, he’s sitting in first class. The hubby then says, that’s Tom Morello, motioning to the guy sitting next to Jack White. I think, that name sounds familiar…is he a sports guy? The hubby, sensing I have no earthly idea who Tom Morello is, says, from Rage Against the Machine. OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH.
As we pass, Tom says, why are you going to Nashville? Jack replies, I live there now. We proceed to our rightful seats in the back of the plane, and the hubby notes that we came all the way to Los Angeles, and didn’t see a single celebrity until we boarded our flight for home. Well, we saw the guy who played Skipper on Sex and the City while we trolled Hollywood Boulevard for overpriced souvenirs…and the hubby thought that a douchebag who was fucking up traffic on Sunset was Mr. Big, but I said, that guy is about half Mr. Big’s age and Middle Eastern, so I don’t think so.
Seeing Jack White at baggage claim waiting for his own luggage convinced me that he is a “cool guy.” The hubby pointed out that he’s just like everybody else. I said, yeah, except for the fame and fortune. Honestly, I don’t own a single White Stripes album, nor have I ever been to one of their shows. Hell, I’ve never even seen one of their videos. That’s how small of a connection I need to a famous person to lose all sense of propriety. They must simply be recognizable, and blammo! I’m all a-twitter.
Gross.
