I guess you're good for a rapper who's on a TV show. (original) (raw)

I would just like to record this moment for posterity:

At 6:04pm EST yesterday, I was within one foot of Donald Glover. Unfortunately, though I noticed him, he did not notice me. (Paging Taylor Swift!)

Our scene is set in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Since fujiidom is a person who is awesome, she managed to not only acquire tickets for the Childish Gambino show at the TLA, but actually had the thought, "Who would go with me? I know! TAHLIA." Cut to me nervously scrambling to get into town from work at a decent hour going into rush hour traffic. Here is an important detail to this story: I have terrible air conditioning in my car. I should probably fix it, but haven't yet because, I don't know, I prefer its quirkiness for some reason? (Immense, systematic laziness? Nahhh.) So I have my windows down. I mean, they are all the way down. I am promoting so full cross-car draft action up in this "once owned by Taylor Ham and came with reverse-gear warning beeps and a pre-installed car phone" bitch.

At 6:04pm, I pull up to the stop light on South Street and 3rd. I am making a left hand turn into a parking ramp on 3rd while also chain-smoking my way through my third cigarette of the ride (hey, okay, it took me 20 minutes just to cross a fucking bridge; don't judge a girl for her vices). Absently, I look to my left and observe a gentleman crossing 3rd and headed my way while texting/initiating a call on his iPhone. I (correctly) guess that he is about to avoid the second crosswalk across South (i.e., in front of my car, as I am stopped at the line) and opt to pass me in order to cross between me and the person behind me. I observe that he seems oddly dressed in a zip-up blue jacket, given that it is still 75 degrees (or 90 inside my vehicle, which is never "cool" after May 1). Whatever. Fucking tourist.

It then occurs to me that this gentleman is actually Donald Glover.

I panic. What do I do? I just sit there, vaguely thinking that this is what will go on my tombstone: "Tahlia, She Who Forever Stares At Random Famous People Yet Knows Not What to Do, Ever." I decide to play it cool. I rescind this decision immediately and begin to fumble for my phone to take a picture! No, I can't do that, hasn't New York taught you anything? Let the TV people be in their natural environments, gosh. (OH MY GOD. Why isn't everyone else on the sidewalk falling all over themselves as he walks by? That's Donald Glover.) Oh fuck, he's passing me, I'm losing my opportunity by the literal seconds here. Do something! OH! HEY!!!! I should say something to him! Yes! The window is open, he is literally passing right by me and I should probably tell him good luck! No! Tahlia! Don't say that! We say "break a leg," you IDIOT! Hey! You should be totally cute and say "see you tonight"! Yes! I'm going to do that! I... oh. He's gone. And the light is green now, and drivers in Philadelphia are bigger assholes than I am. Dammit.

And that, kids, is how Donald Glover and I missed our opportunity to fall in love.

(I still do not possess a Community icon.)

P.S.,