We famous people know what it’s like, right?
You’re out and about, hidden behind the RayBan Wayfarers, and people recognise you and then pretend NOT to recognise you.
We just hate it.
I mean, we don’t want to spend our lives signing
bare midriffs autographs, but it’s fine just to say “Hi” and carry on normally, no?
Case in point the other evening.
In the check-out queue at the local Edeka and I recognised the guy behind me.
Carsten Kühl, the State Finance Minister, with his son in tow.
He’s frequently on TV, doing his best to defend the indefensible (the massive botch-up/poisoned chalice of the Nürburgring development that his predecessor left on his desk) and not doing a bad job, actually.
“Guten Abend, Herr Finanzminister” I said.
He looked quite pleased (having quite obviously recognised me…), we exchanged pleasantries about football and other important stuff and parted ways.
After I told him about his impending appearance here.
In America, the carpark would have been sealed off, with Secret Service people muttering into their sleeves and killer drones circling.
Not in Mainz.
Loads his groceries into his 10 year old BMW 320 station-wagon and heads off home.
Seems like a nice enough guy.
Not that I’d vote for him, of course.
(Not that I CAN vote over here…)