Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

So I've actually met some pretty cool people in my life. My mother used to work for a TV personality, and she'd sometimes take me to conferences and things that she went to. I met a few people this way. I met a few more people during my job last summer in DC (like the Senior Senator from Illinois who is currently the Senate Majority Whip, and my Congressman, a Republican who I like anyway, who took me into the Republican Cloak Room in the Capitol Building(!)). I also worked for someone pretty cool last summer, and pseudo-famous (and definitely normal--he came into a staff meeting once still wearing his sweaty running gear). My favourite of the Famous People I know, however, is a young guy (mid-20s) who started an organization I've done some work with. He was on my trip to Kenya, and so knows me, sort of. Well enough, anyway. (I'm amazed that famous-type people know anyone. In DC nobody ever says "Nice to meet you" for fear that they've already met the person before, and forgotten about it. I know this guy, but I've only met him four or five times, and I'm sure he meets hundreds of people in his work. Still, though, he remembers my name and who I am (though maybe not where I'm from or, apparently, where I go to school) and how he knows me, etc.) I'm always amazed when I talk to him how normal he is. He isn't really, his anecdotes always involve Mother Theresa or the Prime Minister or someone similar. His social life is just absurd, compared to, for example, mine. But he's a nice guy, and normal enough. He wants me to come volunteer in his office in Toronto. I want to work at the office his organization has in California, so we'll see how it goes. I chided him for not letting me know he was going to be in town (I found out last night that he was going to be here today, and only because a friend knew I knew him.) The thing that most reaffirms that this is a normal guy to me, though, is that when I scolded him for not letting me know, he said that he remembered that I went to Queen's, but not that Queen's was the university in Kingston. Apparently he was wholly unable to put two and two together to come up with my area code.
Oh, well. These things happen, I guess.

As punishment I'm not going to spend 40$ to go see him speak in town tonight.
Whoops.