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By sheer fate about a thousand years ago, I found myself trying to snag the very last seat in a crowded cafe one summer Sunday. It meant sharing a table with a gentleman fully immersed in & completely hidden by his newspaper. Talking to the back of the paper, I somewhat sheepishly asked, “Pardon me, would you mind terribly if I shared your table? It’s the only seat left.”The guy peeks out, exclaims so warmly “Sure! Have a seat!” For the next 45 minutes, to my •total• shock, I shared that newspaper and a great cup of coffee with John Corbett. I knew immediately who he was, but something in my gut told me to pretend I didn’t. We talked about life in the neighborhood, a mutual love of estate sales as we compared our greatest finds (I still recall his), and the sale section of the Sunday paper. I honestly don’t know how he could have been nicer. Others came up to him during our visit and would quickly say things like, “I just want to tell you I love your work.” And he was gracious every time. But in spite of this, I never copped to knowing him at all. We were just two people in a crowded cafe sharing the Sunday paper. While I know this is pure speculation, I swear he seemed grateful for the charade.Months later, I was with some friends at a pub on a very crowded Halloween night. Of course I’d already told them months ago about my serendipitous cafe meeting. They couldn’t believe it (neither could I, frankly). So imagine my surprise when, at the other end of the bar, I spied John Corbett again. He was surrounded by impossibly beautiful women, fully engaged in the evening’s festivities. Despite the fangirling so obvious in this post, I don’t often get that star struck honestly. But I admit that I grabbed my friend by the arm, slyly pointed to the end of the bar on the down low, and no doubt squealed a barrage of happy expletives in her ear. I think we all squealed a little if I’m being honest. But thankfully we were well out of earshot in this crowded bar. And I was •perfectly• content to leave it at that. I truly didn’t want to bother him. After all, he was with friends having a great time. And I’d already had my fair share of his time. But then the coolest thing happened.John Corbett — all six foot a’million of him — suddenly stands up, points right at ME, and bellows down the bar: “Heyyyyy you! Get over here!”John Corbett recognized ME, and never in the history of •ever• has a person been more grateful to have had witnesses. He bought my friends and me a round of drinks while we caught up on estate sale scores and ancient sailing legend & lore of all things. My friends were fully stunned. But even after all that, I was just me & he was still just John from the cafe.Like I said in the beginning, I don’t know how he could have been nicer.

This person has explained it well.Source: (@RishvanjasR): Rishvanjas Raghavan

This:is definitely new.