On my recent flight to Atlanta, I had an encounter with greatness. Actually, it was with one-fifth of greatness, but greatness nevertheless. Sitting there in first class (as I wiggled my way past to coach) was Brian Littrell. I froze... I was in the presence of a Backstreet Boy. Heart racing, I made it to my seat and I made a decision. I tore out a blank page from the back of the book I was reading, found a pen and declared "I am going to get his autograph for J" (J being my bestest girl and someone who spent many years of her life certain that she would one day be Mrs. Brian Littrell). Dr. H was legitimately horrified. "That is wrong. So inappropriate. You CANNOT do that."
Perturbed by his response, I mulled it over. You see, New Yorkers pride themselves on a certain level of celebrity etiquette. The "knowing smile" is completely acceptable, even a quick "I'm a big fan of your work" is permitted, but making a scene, interrupting, requesting photos... that's something we leave to the amateurs (LA:). In NYC, we're not supposed to be too impressed, or maybe we're just keen to let celebs live their glamorous lives beside us because that makes everyone feel cool. I don't know where our "rules" come from, but what I did know was that I'd NEVER approached a celebrity requesting an autograph before and this was a faux pas I was willing to make. I wanted it that way and Dr. H was going to have to quit playing games with my heart.
So twice during the flight I made my way to the first class bathroom (curtain be damned!) with my book and pen in hand, but both times all I could do was gaze at Brian's angelic sleeping face. When we de-planed I hustled to baggage claim, willing Bri Guy (of course) to be waiting for some oversized bag, but alas he flew carry-on only (sorry J!) Now, much to Dr. H's approval, I'm back to my NYC etiquette, admiring stars only from afar... unless of course I encounter another member of BSB (ohmygod they're back agaaaaain), then all bets are off.
