He Was Short ... And In A Wifebeater
Newscoma goes to the banker
A cautionary tale and a true story from today
"How's the newspaper? You feeling better?I heard you had surgery."
"It's fine," I said, actually in a bit of a hurry because of the court thing
I had to get too. "I'm good."
"You ever meet Tim McGraw because one time I had a press pass and I got into see him because I loved him," my perky bank official said to me today as I was signing some paperwork that is always indicative that I'm an adult, which usually irritates me because I don't always like being an adult
"Yeah," I said. "I met him."
And when she started relaying her tale of a moment with a celebrity, my initial thought was he was wearing a wifebeater and a cowboy hat when I met him in a professional capacity several years ago which gave me the wiggums. Years later, I found this photo
that validates my initial assumption. He looked rather bright and showy to me but what do I know? I mean I admit I know nothing about fashion and prefer a much more eclectic style composed from yard sale and thrift store finds. I even wear Crocs in the snow.
Donna Karen, I ain't.
Now McGraw might have been drinking because that's the way I remember it but I can't be sure because it was long ago and at a college venue where he had a packed house with another woman I can't remember. (Rodent Queen
just reminded me it was Susie Bogguss, who if I recall, was actually better than McGraw but I was in the hospitality room eating a variety of American cheese during most of both performances talking with this
guy. Alas, it wasn't a Fed-Ex
hospitality room in the day. Bogguss was nice, if I remember correctly and she had the John Hiatt penned hit out about that time. Thanks, Squirrelly. )
"I loved him and I used my friend's press pass to go and get to meet him," she said, grinning initially then her eyes lost that sparkle. "I was so disappointed."
"Why?" I said, somewhat intrigued because I don't really sit around thinking about Tim McGraw but apparently this woman had quite a bit about the one lovely evening she had a press pass, a chance to meet a country singer on the rise back then and the world was her oyster.
"He was short," she sighed, almost shivering disappointedly from the memory. For a moment I felt sorry for her.
"And he isn't that cute," she said in a quiet huff.
I decided to leave her to her time that was riddled with disappointment and almost glory and left the bank somewhat quickly.