I Saw Paris!!

Hilton, that is. I saw Paris Hilton.
I’m not the type to get excited about such things normally. But sitting in the Las Vegas airport, there really isn’t much else to get excited about.
I had an hour to kill before my connecting flight home and I sat down with my great big Diet Pepsi and my Pizza Hut pepperoni pizza. I love people watching – especially at airports (it’s amazing to me what some people wear for travel). Anyway, positioned so I could watch the comings and goings, I became entrenched in pizza grease and carbonation.
A grown woman peered around a pillar and snapped a picture with a dispoable camera. I didn’t think much of it other than “who still uses disposable cameras?” and that was it. A few seconds later a teeny-bopper was pacing back and forth in front of me on the phone and she looks up, her eyes wide and says “OH MY GOSH!!!”
The 30-something, buried in his personal electronic whatever-it-was, and I turn around to see some blond gal with her back to us and some tattooed freaky lookin’ guy… tattoos running up the back of his neck.
Just as I was ready to say, “Is that someone we should know or care about?” the blonde turned around and it clicked – that’s Paris Hilton!
She was dressed in a black velvet-looking sweatsuit, with pink trim; some type of super-hip hat – pretty subdued, actually.
He put his arm around her, she grabbed her gold lame suitcase and they started walking right in front of me. (I could have tripped her!)
No papparazzi, not a ton of fanfare. And really, for all intents and purposes, she looked pretty normal.
A few errant flashes went off; she looked tired. Cute but tired.
What a strange life that must be I thought, as they walked toward the food court, past the Sbarro’s sign, turning heads the whole way. How strange to be looked at – constantly.
The 30-something and I looked at each other, said “Huh!” and both began texting anyone we knew who might be interested in our brief brush with fame.