One of the perks of living in Washington are the weird "celebrity" run-ins. I actually haven't had too many. I've picked up a few weird tibits of information.
I know Pat Buchanan is so declasse that he puts ice cubes in his white wine. I have Maureen Dowd's and Reed Landry's ticket stubs from the Neil Diamond tribute concert they attended last week. I know that Charles Krauthammer uses the fastest wheelchair I've ever seen.
Perhaps my favorite was my run-in with Washington Post columnist and ESPN personality Michael Wilbon. I respect Wilbon greatly. His columns make living in this city just a little easier and for that he has my thanks. He also has my thanks because he once let me cut in line at the Friendship Heights McDonalds. He hadn't decided on his order. After I got my ten nugget meal, Wilbon ordered a Quarter Pounder meal. Hold the pickles and hold the onions.
Unfortunately, you can have only so many Quarter Pounders before it all catches up to you. Monday morning, Wilbon had an angioplasty to clear a blockage in his heart after a minor heart attack.
Mr. Wilbon, you're in my thoughts and prayers. Because if, God forbid, you pass away or aren't healthy enough to work, my days in Washington will become all the more dreary.
And, dude, there's a Subway right across from that McDonald's. Once you're out of the hospital, may I recommend a 6-inch turkey breast sub with apples? I know it isn't as delicious, but I think your fans, and I am obviously a big one, would like to keep you around.