Friday, August 14, 2009

#6 Celebrity Sightings (Chancy Nancy)

Chancellor Cantor is somewhat of a mystery. Cuse Kids hear her speak at various events, read her emails and see her picture in the newspaper, but they rarely interact. She lives in the Crouse Hinds Hall penthouse, on a throne of Connective Corner propaganda pamphlets and reigns supreme. Joe Biden is her friend, they share jokes. Occasionally, she’ll venture down to Starbucks, and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

The hell, of course, is invisible, trapped in the feeble hearts of Cuse Kids. They would never admit it, but when they spot Nancy from across the street, they get all nervous. A swarm of butterflies suddenly invades their stomachs. Nancy, like a hard drug, stops their hearts.

She is Diddy. She is Oprah. She is the Dalai Lama. Wait, is Nancy walking in slow motion? A slight breeze tickles her short hair; her pantsuit looks rare, like it was dipped in the tears of virgins. The pearls on her neck shine—they’ve just been removed from the ocean after a thousand year nap. A symphony plays somewhere in the distance.

Some Cuse Kids will point. Those with courage will wave. The bravest of all will walk over and say hello. Nancy is nice. Damn, you think, I should have introduced myself.

Next time, there’s always a next time.

The celebrity sighting will provide a conversation starter for days, a cheesy pickup line in Chucks (Guess who I saw today? The Chancellor. She gave you an A+ for looks. I agree.) You replay the moment for your friends: how you saw her, at Starbucks, with an entourage. You don’t admit that she made your heart skip a beat, that your palms got a little sweaty. But you hope. Hope that you will have the balls to wave your sweaty hand, the courage to croak hello.

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