Tar Heels are everywhere!
Because this happened on Saturday nite at a bar in D.C.
If you don't know, that is former Tar Heel basketball player and 2009 National Champion Marcus Ginyard.
So here's what happened. On Saturday nite I went out with my friend who, for the purposes of this blog, I will call Mr. Wit (MW)*. We had considered going to Georgetown but since I hate it there, had just spent the afternoon there, and people were out celebrating St. Patrick's Day there, we decided to hit Adams Morgan instead. This is a very popular part of D.C. that I've never really cared for. I have reasons but they're all pretty lame so I'll just move on.
We had dinner at a small New Orleans restaurant I had visited years ago with my book club. After jambalaya and beignets we set out for a new-ish bar that I'd only been to for brunch and was entirely new to MW.
After sitting at the bar for a little while, this tall man walked in. I took one look at his face, dug my nails into MW's arm, and squealed, "Oh my gosh it's Marcus Ginyard! No, wait, it's not, it can't be. Oh my gosh I think it's him. No." After letting me carry on like this for a minute, MW had me pull his picture up on his phone and he confirmed it was him.
He tried to get me to talk to him but I refused. I didn't want to bother him and I just knew I'd make a fool of myself. Somehow I got distracted, by a drink or the TV or something shiny, and MW took that as his cue to talk to MG. He told me it went something like this:
MW: So, if I went to UNC, would I know you?
MG: I don't know, would you?
MW: Would I?
Then MW pulled me over and said, "Well, I didn't go to UNC, but she did." And then I died.
I couldn't stop smiling and apologizing for bothering him. I asked him what he was doing in town and he asked me what I did in D.C. I asked if he'd seen UNC's atrocious game the day before. (He had not.) He was so polite and nice. I had no reason to think he'd be otherwise, having only ever heard good things about him, but it's always nice to see.
I asked him if he'd hate me if I asked for a picture, and he laughed and said no, so that's what I did. MW left for the bathroom so I'd have a minute alone to talk to him, which was nice but nerve-wracking because I'm such a goober. When he got back, I moved back to my seat and we continued doing our thing. Well, not true, we continued drinking and dancing interspersed with my periodic "Oh my gosh! I'm so happy! Oh my gosh!"
It was just a fun nite anyway and to have that as part of it definitely made it even better. Had I been alone I would have just been happy to see him at the bar, without saying anything, so I'm glad I had MW to break the ice for me.
*There are certain aspects of my life I keep off this blog for various reasons. But sometimes these areas are important and it feels wrong to ignore them. So my solution is Mr. Wit. Which was one of many suggested monikers. As you might expect from someone called Mr. Wit.