Me: "Hey, are you . . . are you Steve Guterson?"
Mr. Guterson [looks up from whatever he was reading while sitting on a bench and nods and sort of smiles]: "Yeah. Uh, David."
Me: "Oh, of course. David. Well. I've read two of your books and I understand you have a new one out . . ." [Something like that.]
Mr. Guterson: [Kind of nods, smiles again.]
Me: "You're amazing at what you do ... I didn't mean to intrude. I'll just let you . . . I'll mind my own business now . . ."
And that was that. I want to believe my ability to recognize him was so shockingly unexpected that he simply didn't know what to say. I probably intimidated the hell out of the world-class author, which is understandable. I'm very intimidating by nature. (I am deceivingly strikingly handsome and well dressed and my muscular arms are covered in black tattoo art gone awry.) But what did I learn about my moment of unexpected stalkerazzi? I learned he was more nerdy and brainy-sounding than I expected. And that I'll never mistake him for a Steve.
