My Brush with Infamy
Back in June I was at a cafe on Doheny, and I got talking to this paparazzi. He was very interesting looking, mohawk and piercings, cute face. Eventually we got into a pretty in-depth conversation about culture, language, and education, because he was born in Afghanistan, raised in England, and then came here to America.
And he was charming. I don’t mean lay-it-on-thick, shmoozy charm, either. I mean “intelligent conversation, thoughtful observances” charm. If I remember correctly, he had a Master’s Degree in something like International Relations or something… from England. But he came here and found that he could make a great deal of money this way, so he did. He supports his parents entirely, from what he said. They still live in England. But he does visit Afghanistan too, and he says it’s awesome and the people are great.
Anyway, when I left, he walked me to my car, hugged me, gave me his phone number and told me to call him sometime. Well, I didn’t call him, because handsome, well-educated, articulate, exotic, charming young men driving expensive silver convertibles are nothing but trouble.
But last night my two best friends were talking about how Britney Spears is now sleeping with some paparazzi and he’s like her boyfriend now… and Whoa! It’s him! Adnan! The same guy! I couldn’t believe it, I said, “Hold on, THIS guy?” and showed them the picture I took of him that day. (I had my camera because I was apartment hunting.) But anyway. Isn’t that funny??
Poor Adnan. I should have called him, and saved him from Britney. Heh.
Here’s his picture. Ain’t he cute? Let me tell you, I did learn one thing about photogs that day: they hate having their picture taken.
