My Brush with (sort of) Greatness
My wife and I were flying out of the Louisville airport today. While waiting at the Southwest counter to check our luggage, three people who appeared to be in a band (mainly because the two dudes were checking guitars) were holding up the line a little bit. I didn't mind too much. We weren't in a huge hurry and, honestly, the girl with the two dudes was just short of gorgeous. Anyhoo, the baggage lady asked the girl for her name and she said, "Digby." I put two and two together (apparently I made five) because I told my wife, "Oh, that must be the band 'Digby.'" I'm familiar with this apparently all male band inasfar as I've seen lots of their bumper stickers around town,mostly on 90s-model Subarus. This, in fact, was Marie' Digby, not the band Digby. She left her open wallet in front of the boarding kiosk and, mustering every bit of Rico Suave I could (perhaps even channeling Rico Suave himself), I said meekly, "Ma'am, you left your wallet." She thanked me and she and her bandmates went on their merry way. About an hour later on the plane, my wife said, "Ha!" and leaned over to show me her magazine. Right there in People was an album review for none other than Marie' Digby.