Just Cuz It's Funny.

So, I now work at American Airlines.  People ask me what I do and I usually say "I'm the bouncer for the VIP lounge for American Airlines at LAX."  This really is the best description because I just sit at the door and decide who comes in and who doesn't.  That's all I do.  All day.

Obviously, because we are the VIP lounge in LA, I refer to my job as the famous person parade.  Every day multiple famous people come through.  Luckily, in my life I have had multiple jobs where I deal with famous people so it doesn't really phase me.

Of course, regular people come into the lounge, too.  Every now and then I see people I know.  A few friends from Disney have come through.  My brother comes through every now and then with guys he works with.  One day, a guy from my church came in.  Here's how the conversation went:

Liz (excited to see a friend):  Hey!  How's it going?
Church Guy (a little taken back by my friendliness):  Good.

I realize he doesn't recognize me because I cut off my hair, so I say:

Liz:  I cut off my hair.
Church Guy (confused):  Great.

Now I'm getting embarrassed that he clearly doesn't remember me, so trying to help him out I say:

Liz (reminding him):  It used to be brown and real long.
Church Guy (with a little smile):  Yah, my hair used to be a little longer too.

With his smile and imagining him with longer hair I realize that he doesn't go to my church, he is Tag - Rachel's boyfriend from Friends - or some of you may know him from CSI: NY.  Eddie Cahill.

Oh man, with this realization, I re-live the conversation... Weird girl says hi really too friendly, randomly mentions she cut off her hair, gives a description of previous hair and is now staring at him terrified....

Now, I'm just trying to get rid of him as fast as possible.  So I quickly go through the things I'm required to say and then look down at my keyboard until he leaves, playing with my nails, straightening my desk, moving around pens for no reason.   And it take him FOREVER to leave because he has to put stuff back in his wallet and pack up his bag and get his jacket on his arm and put his backpack on his back and pick up his phone and wallet off the counter.  Finally, he's all organized and I look up embarrassed to say one more friendly goodbye.  And with such kindness and grace he says, "Thanks, I like the hair."

Note to self:  Assume people at LAX are actors not friends.