So no shit, there I was, eating my 4-piece chicken mcnugget happy meal, when I hear a familiar voice. I look over to my left to see CONAN O'BRIEN.
He looks at me at the same time I look at him. I'm startled as I recognize him. I turn back to my "meal" and smile, deciding that I could only dig a terrible, awkward hole if I try to say something, and it would only draw others' attention, and the man is only trying to get his cholesterol to the all-american threateningly high standard levels. So I sat there, went on reading my book, eating my crappy meal. A few minutes later, a man came up to him.
"Mr. O'Brien, I really enjoy your show, and I just wanted to thank you."
"Oh thanks a lot." I then watched in amazement as he turned the man's sincere, but necessarily awkward praise into a short, pleasant conversation. The man is from Framingham, Conan grew up in Brookline, home seeing his family for the holidays. God Bless and good bye. Very gracious, very pleasant.
A woman comes up. "It must be annoying to have people coming up to you all the time."
"Well, I knew what I was signing up for when I started out," says Conan, prepared once more to deflect all nervous chattering and direct it into a sweet, short conversation.
I watched in awe as he handled four or five people, quietly, always happily, never seeming to weary of the pattern, always sure to ask for a name, a town, make the asker feel important. It was impressive, but it had to be tiring.
I was done with my meal and couldn't concentrate on Agatha Christie anymore. I folded myself up and got myself out of my booth. I thought I'd say something, too, but decided against it. I thought of how I hate getting recognized when I'M home, and I'm just talking about High School people, not even complete strangers who know even less about me and assume much.
Still... CONAN O'BRIEN!
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