{The Jian Chronicles}

Today I woke up with a song in my head. I got a phone call at, like, 8:30 am from some friends who wanted to go for coffee in twenty minutes. We went for coffee and I made them late for work. That was my fault because I talk so much when I'm excited. I was excited because it was today.

Today: the day that Jian Ghomeshi comes to Regina.

I got home from my coffee date and sat on the couch. I looked out the window a little. I hummed a little. I looked at my feet. I looked in the fridge. I looked at the clock. Jian Ghomeshi's flight would come in at 3. {Don't worry; this information was thrust upon me quite innocuously; I didn't do any extra-curricular creeping to find it out.}

I live right by the airport, I thought. It's right there. I looked at the clock. I texted Karlie.

"I want to go spy on Jian Ghomeshi," I said.

Karlie is a good friend for spying with. In fact, we have this hilarious story about an evening we spent in the bushes behind a senior citizens' home. You don't get to hear it.

So she said she would come with me.

When we got to the airport, I was suddenly overcome with dread: If Jian Ghomeshi saw me there, if he knew, somehow, that I had come to the airport specifically to watch him walk off an airplane, his normally friendly grin would fold into a disappointed glare, the kind adults give as they say, "Suzy, you know better than this." His hands would abruptly hoist his carryon across his shoulders as he turned to run; he would shout to his people, "SHE'S INSANE! DON'T LET HER NEAR ME!" And then he would rush back onto the airplane and fly away, back to Toronto. And never return any more of my letters.

The Worst.

Besides, I chided myself, what sane adult person goes anywhere just to spy on someone? Besides, obviously, spies, psychopaths, paparazzi and stalkers?

Me. Just me. And Karlie. And Karlie's baby. But only because Karlie's baby is a baby and can't say "that's a stupid idea" yet.

However!

We live in Regina! We had nothing else going on! We really, really like Jian Ghomeshi, and Karlie wouldn't be able to come to his book tour tonight! And I never, never get star struck. I'm allowed one moment of being star struck. Just one. Besides. I had a magazine. I would hide behind my magazine and casually peer out when it was safe.

So it was settled then. We took Karlie's baby and we went to the arrivals gate.

And the doors opened, and a ray of glittery, sparkly, angel light came streaming through the whole terminal, and there was singing and there was Jian Ghomeshi's big huge smile, followed quickly by the rest of him, followed quickly by Ashley.

That Ashley. I knew it was her right away and I don't know how.

I realized then that my mouth was hanging open. It was! Because I realized at that exact moment that Jian Ghomeshi exists in real life! And now I felt horrible. I'd come to watch a person walk down some stairs, without taking into consideration that this person was an actual person and maybe didn't want strangers coming around to watch him walk down stairs. Maybe he wanted to walk down stairs in peace.

He caught my eye and smiled. I gasped. My cover had been blown. I stood up. I sat down. I said, "Jian Ghomeshi is there!"

Karlie smiled. "Let's go talk to him," she said, all calmly as though she'd always known that Jian Ghomeshi was a real person and wasn't bothered at all that he might figure out our secret plan to watch him walk down the stairs.

"NO!" I exclaimed. "He'll know we came to see him! He---He's getting away!"

And sure enough. Jian Ghomeshi was further proving his complete and utter humanity and simultaneously thwarting our best spy efforts by disappearing into the men's washroom.

RATS. 

To be continued.

{UPDATE: PART 5}