Last night was much-anticipated at our house because it was the night Mountain Man was in Lynchburg for a minor league baseball game. And we had free tickets. Talk about a good Thursday night plan!
In case you don’t know who Mountain Man is, he’s sometimes on Duck Dynasty, which we greatly enjoy watching on TV. So here we are, twenty (thirty? forty?) feet away from someone on one of our favorite TV shows, and we didn’t meet him.
I seem to have a bad personal record for this type of thing. One of my more embarrassing life moments happened at the tender age of three when I ran up to Minnie Mouse at Disney World. Happy little me didn’t notice the HUGE line of kids waiting to meet Minnie, so I just went in for a hug. Big mistake. Turns out the moms with the kids didn’t think cutting in line was cute at all.
And then there was the time I was standing 10 feet from Pete Sampras, my only real athlete crush back in the day. I didn’t want to inconvenience him on his way out from a match, so I just stood there like an idiot wishing he would come up to me and introduce himself. Right. We didn’t meet.
Last night’s logic? Well, the line was long, and I didn’t have anything to say to the man. Sure, he seems great on TV, but I didn’t have any burning questions to ask or any souvenirs to be signed. So we took a long-distance picture, enjoyed the game (complete with beard contest), and ate a giant sale pizza when it started to rain. Success.