Today has ended wonderfully in two ways:
1. I am composing this while sitting on a plane en route to LA, watching FX on the little screen in the seat, reading Tweets as they post. I indulged a little and paid for in-flight Internet. I plan on posting to Instagram. This amazes more than just a little.
2. While both cruising through the airport and then waiting in the aisle for other passengers to take their seats, I looked up to see none other than Paul Wesley stuffing his bag into an overhead bin. It is no secret that I have a teenage sort of affinity for the Vampire Diaries and its assortment of stars, especially since they’re in and out of Atlanta all the time. So I had the expected reaction, which was to lose the capacity for speech, become very unbecomingly flushed, and start shaking. And so even though he was four inches from my elbow, I made embarrassingly furtive glances in that general direction and continued to my seat, replaying the scene in my head a few dozen times, except with a far braver me in it. (That me was charmingly complimentary.)
Who knows? Perhaps a similar opportunity will present itself in the future, and I will do something more than send a creepy, stalker tweet from twelve rows back in an airplane. Future and past me are so much braver than me right now.