I Didn't Care if I Died...

Well, darn it, I'm going to go over there, as it's now or never.

...read on to learn why I didn't.

It was early spring in 2002, and I was waiting at O'Hare for my first flight after 9/11. I was traveling for work to Salt Lake City, as I did a few times a year in those days. It was a Sunday, there were mobs of people everywhere, and I was waiting for my group to be called.

I'm passing the time by people-watching. Suddenly, I see... Can it be? No? Wow! Really? Is that him? My teenage heartthrob Donny Osmond? Whose pictures were plastered all over my bedroom walls? (Truthfully, he shared wall space with Bobby Sherman.)

_Yes!_ OMG, I can't believe it! Should I go over there? No, that would be dumb, as I'm sure he gets approached by people all day and night long. I'm just another one of those women. Well, darn it, I'm going to go over there, as it's now or never. No one will ever believe me if I don't! And I have to get proof--an autograph!

_Yes!_ Now, what can I use? My boarding-ticket envelope. _Go,_ right now, girl He's in line. Now's your chance. No one else has noticed him (no one else has noticed him?).

So I walked over and asked him for his autograph. No need to verify it's _him._ And he gives it to me. And he's still cute. And my height! Wow! Turning bright red now, and probably drooling. And now _he wants to talk to me._ Ah, no, not ready for that, thank you, excuse me. But I decide to be nice and talk with him.

Actually, I think my words are coming out like the teacher lady's in the Peanuts cartoons. He asks me why I'm going to Salt Lake City, and about my job, etc., etc., for a full five minutes. I'm about ready to faint. Poor guy must see these kinds of antics way too much.

And then I'm in line after him (of course, he's in first class). And my fear of flying this first flight just goes _poof!_ Gone.

Because I don't care if I die--since Donny Osmond and I are going to die together!

Respectfully submitted.


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