“Would you do me a favor? Would you go over to her and ask her if it’d be okay if I
could get her autograph?”
The waiter blinked at me for a second, then looked over to the girl as if to try and
recognize if she was someone famous.
“Um, sure...” he said.
The waiter walked over and leaned in towards the girl, who looked up from her book. He
talked to her, pointing to me as he did so, and she looked over in my direction. I smiled
and waved at her as she gave me a funny look. The waiter came back to me.
“She wants to know who you think she is,” he said.
I turned to Alice. “Alice, would you mind if I went over and talked to her for a minute?”
It was a loaded question, I knew she wouldn’t mind (how could she refuse?), but I needed
to disarm the obstacle.
“No, go ahead,” she said.
I got up and walked over to the girl’s table. “Hi,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to
bother you while you were eating.”
“That’s okay,” she said, looking at me with her dark, beautiful eyes, smiling.
“Would you mind if I joined you for a second? Then I got to get back to my friend.”
“No, go ahead,” she said.
I sat in the empty chair at her table, pulling out a pen and small notepad (I carry this
around with me in case I need to get a girl’s number and write down where I met her and
what she looked like).
I opened to an empty page in my notebook and handed it to her along with the pen.
“Okay, just sign this. Make it out to: Joe.”
“Um, I don’t know who you think I am,” she said. “But I’m not famous.”
I grinned. “Do you really want to know why I’m asking you for your autograph?”
“Sure,” she said.
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