My mother told me last night that she sat next to a celebrity on her flight home. She didn't have the slightest clue that she was sitting next to a Boston Celtic until she heard people whispering about a celebrity. He was wearing a Celtics shirt and when she got home she looked him up on the internet. It was Paul Pierce.
"I felt so bad for him," she said. "Everyone was staring at him and whispering to each other. I felt like they were staring at me too. That must be so awful."
I agree. Even if I could have all the money in the world, I wouldn't want to have to be a celebrity to get it. My mom said that he was very nice and sort of ignored it all. She said that at one point he gave her a grin when people were talking loudly about him.
"And then he offered me his turkey sandwich," she said. "That's the second time a celebrity has offered me their sandwich."
"Who was the first one?" I asked.
"Young Joe Kennedy. Remember that? We were at a ski lodge and I didn't know who he was until Father Flynn said, 'Do you know who just offered you his sandwich?'"
I do remember that, actually. At the time I wasn't exactly sure who Young Joe Kennedy was. And I'm still not sure. I mean, Joe Jr. was killed in WWII. Now, John John I know. Especially since my older brother was often mistaken for him.
By the way, that was the same ski trip when my father was mistaken for Newt Gingrich. People must have been wondering why the hell old Newt was hanging with John John.
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