Tonight at dinner, a group of three gentlemen sat catercorner to my friend and me at the bar.
We struck up a conversation with them in which I asked the one closest to me “which famous person are you?”
He laughed and said, “I wish,” and the five of us moved on to other things, like what they should order (definitely some grits).
We talked about Atlanta, and about that night at Tiffany when I ended up shopping with the basketball player who everybody else in the store recognized but I didn’t (it was a Chicago Bull looking for a Christmas present his mother and a girl who was a friend of his).
So their dinner came and they did, indeed, love the grits.
And my dinner came and I insisted he try my Brussels sprouts, which he did.
And then he left and we figured out it was Dri Archer.
Nice guy. I hope he wins.