Now THIS is when you should use an exclamation point

Hey team,
What I’ve written below is entirely too long, but keep in mind I was writing it more for me than for you. I didn’t want to forget a single detail of what happened yesterday. Do me a favor: if it’s too long for you to read, at least go over the first few paragraphs and last few paragraphs.

(Yes, that’s the same reading strategy I used in high school English)


The 1:00 hour did not start very well yesterday for Mike Pacchione. For reasons I’m still trying to understand, the Red Sox felt the need to trade Manny Ramirez (who I genuinely consider a family member) AND two other players for the average baseball player named Jason Bay. Let’s just say Mike was not pleased. For the last nine months I’ve had this photo as my computer wallpaper. Can I keep it now that he’s on the Dodgers?

Texts and phone calls came in frantically. I sent emails with a simple “why, Theo, why?” subject line. At one point I was so frazzled, I scrolled through my contacts looking for “Manny” so as to make sure he knew I loved him. Finally my friend Martha asked if I wanted to leave the office. I said yes, but not before my co-worker Angie told me I had to leave my phone behind. Reluctantly, I agreed.

Martha and I walked past Powell’s en route to Thai Sky. She was telling me about some silly spat she’s having with her BF when we passed two women. I made eye contact with one of them, a cute, curly blonde-haired woman, Blackberry in hand, texting someone out there in the universe. In our second of eye contact, I thought to myself “you know, she looks remarkably like Jennifer Nettles.”

For the next few seconds, my mind raced through the usual rundown of improbability – she looks too young, I thought she’d be taller, why would she be here, how could I be so lucky as to run into her, that sort of thing. I also knew I’d never live with myself if I didn’t at least check. I sized her up from behind: black shirt, cloth sash, short blue shorts. Silver mini-gladiator flats. It certainly seemed to be her style. I owed it to myself (and my dedicated Sugarland loving friends, Jeannie and Las Frijoles) to see if it was her, however improbable.

I asked Martha if we could turn around. I really think that was Jennifer Nettles, I said. I explained who Jennifer Nettles is. I swear, no one in Portland knows anything about country music. Since JN has a deep, DEEP southern accent, I figured all we had to do was get close enough to them to hear her speak. It was a plan.

We started walking towards them. There’s probably a stealth way to stalk someone but this was not it. Ever see one of those movies where the rookie cop follows a suspect too closely, and he blows the case? That was us. What had been a 20 foot gap between us closed to about nine inches before we’d covered a block. Then, plenty close to them, we stopped walking so fast. It was completely ridiculous behavior. In real life, the fast walking group would just pass the other group. Our cover was about to be blown.

Suddenly, like an angel descending from Heaven, I saw salvation in the form of a Children’s International canvasser. In the history of Portland, no canvasser has ever seen two people on the street without asking them if they’d like to save the world…until now, anyway. Unbelievable, and I know that’s the most overused word in the world but I can’t think of another way of saying it. It was up to me to make my move.

…And just as I was about to do so, the Nettles-looking one mouthed an inaudible direction to her friend. Suddenly they cut across the street to a women’s shoe store called Sole. I believe this could be classified as “less than ideal.”

“Martha, will you please go inside and just look at shoes or something?”
She said yes.
“Is this what stalkers feel like?”
She said yes.

* * * *
My writing teachers always told me to maintain the same verb tense throughout a story. Screw that. I want to forever live in the present tense of subsequent five minutes:

Open the door, walk to the left (to the left), spot them to the right. There is no one else in the store. Slowly work our way in their direction until finally I am staring at her in the mirror. I still have my doubts. How many times have I watched Sugarland videos? How many Jennifer Nettles photos have I looked at? Yet I’d never noticed tattoos on her wrists. Usually she’s wearing some sort of amazingly not-quite-trendy-but-incredibly-fashionable bracelet. And where was that big bracelet anyway? The one on this girl’s arm was thin and orange, almost like a WWJD? style bracelet. In my head I think back to an interview I once heard on 99.5 The Wolf FM, where she mentioned “I love Portland. You’ve got so many great little shops there.” This is her. I know it’s her. But it can’t be her. Can it?

Suddenly I’m walking towards her. I avoid the whole “what should I do? What should I say?” mental trap and just go with it.

“Are you –“

(You probably think I’m going to ask her name, don’t you?)

“from Georgia.”

Her eyes light up. Her smile lights up. Sweet mercy. I would know that smile anywhere. It’s her. It’s actually her. I am staring at Jennifer Nettles.

Do you know how many articles I’ve read about her?
Do you know how many blog posts I’ve written about her?
Do you have any idea how well I know her music? I once compiled a list of “favorite Jennifer Nettles words,” meaning not my favorite lyrics, but individual words she pronounced well in songs. Like “wah” (why) in the song “Stay”, “bah” (by) in “Settlin’” or “dreamers” in “Happy Ending.”

Do you know how much I love this woman? And she’s standing right in front of me. Holy, holy, holy.

Now, keep in mind I’ve been around celebrities before. I worked for the Phillies for two seasons, where I famously told Barry Bonds I would see him around. I played volleyball against Julianna Margolis. In college, I managed to have Katie Holmes escort me through a door on the University of Richmond campus. I once waited tables on Neal Armstrong. So it’s not like I’ve never been in this situation before. But this…this was Jennifer Nettles! Think of whoever would be your ultimate “I wish I could run into ___” person and then imagine it actually happening.

She asks me if I’m from Georgia, too. I smile. I’m ecstatic. More than ecstatic. I need to create a new adjective to communicate my degree of happiness. Then I realize I don’t have my phone with me. This means I don’t have a camera with me.

“I’m going to kill Angie, I’m going to kill Angie,” I say.
JENNIFER NETTLES asks me who Angie is.
“She’s the one who forced me to leave my camera behind.”

I explain to JENNIFER NETTLES that Manny Ramirez has just been traded, that every friend from Boston is calling me to complain, that Angie forced me to leave my camera in the office. Oh the irony. She laughs.

Martha has a camera. She’s wearing a dress, but she has a camera. Thank the Good Lord.

“Oh, do you want to take a picture?” JENNIFER NETTLES asks me, in the most soothing, kind and gracious southern tone you’ve ever heard.

Jennifer Nettles puts her arm around me. I put my arm around her. I am in a woman’s shoe store, posing for a picture with Jennifer Nettles.

We take the picture. Though I usually have trouble with digital cameras, miraculously I have kept my eyes open. I have proof. This is really happening.

We talk. She introduces us to her friend Elena. She asks if we’re going to the show in Sweet Home on Friday. She doesn’t even know how far away that is. I tell her it’s like two hours away. Martha grew up there. Martha tells Jennifer it’s a sweet little country town.

I tell Jennifer I have my thesis to work on, but I’ll go if she promises to make it a good set. She laughs. I have made Jennifer Nettles laugh. And what a laugh. Totally natural, kicking her head back, that great big Jennifer Nettles smile to go with it, that smile I’ve seen ten thousand times on TV and in concert but never in real life.

We’ve talked to her for a couple minutes now and I don’t want to be the crazy fan. I go to say goodbye and touch her on her arm, right below the heart tattoo I’ve seen 100,000 times in videos and still shots. We say goodbye to Elena. Wow. Just wow.

I have rehearsed this moment a million times in my head – what I would say to Jennifer Nettles if I saw her in real life. For some reason I always thought that was possible. My friend Molly works at the hotel where they were supposed to stay last year (the concert was cancelled because JN had laryngitis). My friend Jason has an uncle who sold Sugarland their RV. Their new album covers a song by “a cat named Matt Nathanson,” who happens to look exactly like me. Somehow it made sense that I would one day meet her. Yet here she is, in front of me, and I’m not coming up with anything as meaningful as I’d like. I want to leave her with something meaningful.

I turn around and say, “Jennifer, Jennifer.” The store employee is in the corner, pretending to do inventory but lightly laughing at how excited I am. I tell Jennifer how I’ve written blog posts about her. I realize this sounds weird. I don’t want to think I’m one of those guys who writes about how hot she is. I say “shoot, that sounds weird. You have to promise you won’t think it’s weird.” She laughs. She is so gracious. I tell her how people have found my church blog by google searching “Is Jennifer Nettles a Christian?” She thinks that’s cool. I tell her for some reason I just thought she might want to know. I smile. She smiles. I wish her luck again.

I walk away, my feet obeying the laws of gravity but feeling like I’m on air. I have just met Jennifer Nettles.

* * * *
The aftermath:
Martha and I walking to the Thai cart. All I can talk about is Jennifer Nettles.
Getting back to the office. All I can talk about is Jennifer Nettles.

Thinking about how miraculous that was. If so many things had gone just a little differently, I would have never seen her: If I hadn’t taken an extra two minutes to find $$$ for lunch, if we had walked on the opposite side of the street, if we had chosen a different lunch spot, if I hadn’t made eye contact with her…so much had to go right.

Thinking about how there’s literally no other celebrity in the world who I know as much about as JN. I could teach a class on the gal.

Thinking about how genuinely kind and gracious she seemed. How many celebs would have a real conversation with a fan?

Thinking about how I wish I had thanked her for her music. I’m sure she gathered that I was a legit fan – it’s not like everyone would know she’s from Georgia – but wishing I had told her how much songs like “Baby Girl” and “Come on Get Higher” mean to me.

Listening to Sugarland for the rest of the day and hearing JN’s voice more clearly than ever. I just met that girl.

Thinking about the complete swing in emotions I had experienced in a 15 minute period: from the absolute anger and sadness of the Manny situation to the absolute ecstasy of meeting – and legitimately conversing with – my hero. Plus, I have a new picture for my computer wallpaper.

* * * *

I’ve reviewed before where I think exclamation points are a bit obnoxious, but if there is ever a time to use one, it’s now. I just met freakin’ Jennifer Nettles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, for good measure, let’s end with a quote from co-worker Angie, noting the blown-up photo pinned to the walls of my cube:
“Oh, that’s Jennifer Nettles? You look like boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Ah. To dream the impossible dream. Which, at least for now, feels somehow possible.

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!