At the time I worked at a downtown hotel as a concierge. I wandered across the street to the convention center and its super sketchy (at the time) food court with my co-worker and bestie, AnonD.
We were doin' what girls do.
AnonD, who between work and social tomfoolery knew practically everyone I knew (and vice versa) at the time sat looking bewildered as to A) Who this mysterious 'Bob' was that I seemed to know, and she didn't. And II) Why the fuck I would be asking for someone she thinks I must know's autograph.
Ridiculousness escalated as the esteemed Mr. Costas broke stride and stopped by our table for a wee chat. Why are you here? Are you enjoyin' the city? And other mundane minutiae Midwesterners ask randomly encountered celebrities. Bob uber politely provided answers to each of my queries. (He was in town to do a piece on a local inventor who had devised some basketball training hoop.
What the very genial former Later With Bob Costas (NBC) host didn't know was that I don't enjoy carrying a purse. I will. I have several that for various reasons make me happy. But general rule? That's what your bra is for. Classy? Not particularly. Super secure and consistently convenient? Oh, hellz yeah. But I digress. Suffice it to say the over the shoulder boulder holder has its purse-y limitations. One of which is writing utensils.
Now this is the point where I've already weighed out my options, and have apparently decided that getting up walking to one of the food vendors and begging for a pen was too much effort. Or so I gathered when, "oh, never mind, I don't even have a pen", came tumbling out of my pie hole.
The only less appropriate phrasing could have been; 'I'm only interested in commemorating our random ass meeting if it requires zero effort on my part. So, with that said, I'm out. But, really nice meetin' ya.'
Meanwhile, AnonD, who is responsible enough to consistently carry a purse is; 1) searching furiously for a writing device. B) still perplexed who this Bob Costas is, why she doesn't know him and why I'm now declining his autograph.
The next thing I know Mr. Costas hoofs it to the nearest food outlet and has successfully acquired a pen. As he returns, pen in
Pop Quiz: Does the dumbass girl without a pen, who's already called off the autographing opportunity and is clearly ill prepared, have a piece of paper?
I'm starting to realize that
...Which is exactly when AnonD discovered an old receipt floating around her purse:
As we finished our lunch I filled AnonD in on who Bob Costas was (is) and why he's one of the coolest cats around. A half an hour later, or so, as we
Anyone who gets his own autographing pen. (And returned it to the vendor) Doddles whilst stranger girls scramble for paper and recalls names more than :30 seconds later?? That's one very decent guy. And cool ass cat.
* In homage to his show, Later with Bob Costas. Not because either AnonD or I were floozy's. There were no actual Bob Costas plans involved in the making of this story.