MAY 16, 2012
So we’re at Barnes and Noble at The Grove – this upscale Disney-world-esque shopping village – to see Andy Cohen. His book’s sold out. S can’t get one. We’re late and a sea of people are ahead of us. S pushes through and finds a guard. “Tell Andy [S] is here.” Some lady takes us to a room down the hall behind the bathroom. A line of people parts and there’s Andy, all smiles. “Fantastic to see you [S]!” She’s introduced to his mother and father, perched nearby. I am too. I wave, silently. “Okay, I’m on. Follow
me.” The star weaves
past a giggly pug-cheeked Asian baby in a stroller, squats down and flashes a
picture of himself with her with cell phone. “So cute.” He says. He takes one of him and S. She’s beaming. He’s
beaming. Like ducklings, we follow the star. The crowd parts. It’s roaring. Screaming,
clapping. “Andy! Andy!”
I don’t even know who this guy is.