People who need People

Yesterday, I woke up, dashed out of bed and logged on to people.com for my first glimpse of the blessed two (as I type that, I hear Steve saying, "Stop calling them that," in my mind).

I left the house an hour later with a mission: Must buy People magazine. I had two newspaper checks in my purse, so my plan was to cash them and buy the mag before work, as Bank of America is next to the place that pays me downtown. But I had a cake carrier to return to a co-worker, who made me the most delicious sour-cream pound cake with cream cheese-pecan frosting for my birthday, and I figured it would not be good at all to enter the bank carrying a large, suspicious piece of Tupperware.

So I went to my secured office on the 14th floor of my building, checked my e-mail and approved a couple of proofs. Then I zoomed out the door to the bank. The line was long, so I cashed my checks through the ATM's new, improved deposit function that saves approximately 6 seconds from the old envelope system and went straight to the sundries shop in the Sheraton across the street. The sign in the lobby advertises "Snacks, newspapers and magazines," but that was a lie. They had no magazines. The nice clerk offered to sell me a USA Today, but that was not on my agenda. "Must. See. Brangelina. Babies."

Crestfallen, I went back to the office and admitted to my two best girls, contract designers, that I had been running around trying to find People magazine. My friend Melissa, the rock star, perked up. Seems an album she'd done session work on got a great review in the new issue. "If you go back out and find it, will you pick up a copy for me?," she asked. "No," I replied, "but you're welcome to go back out with me in the 100 degree heat at lunch to keep looking."

So we ventured out into the heat. We first headed a block south to the brand-spanking-new Marriott that just opened last weekend. Their sundries shop carried "Elle," "Southern Living" and the standard national newspapers. After that, we stopped back at the bank so Mel could get some cash and I checked out the high-rise's tiny convenience store, with no luck.

Downtown Raleigh has no newsstands, so after much debate, we set off to the scary drugstore four blocks north. I smoke and don't deal well with heat even though I've lived in the South my whole life, so entering that air-conditioned, stinky drugstore past the security station was like Nirvana for me. We made a beeline to the magazine section and I began pawing through the selection, thinking -- praying -- the new People was buried behind other rags.

"I'm gonna go ask about it," Melissa said, marching to the front to stand in line with the sketchy people as I continued to frantically search, knowing for sure I would find it.

"Hasn't been delivered," the manager told Mel. It was at that moment that I had an epiphany. I didn't suddenly realize that I am a grown woman with a good job and education who should be above celebrity worship. It was that I've worked in the words-on-paper industry for 16 years and know that the printing-binding-fulfillment-shipping process takes time.

We stopped for take-out, then headed back to the office. We had no choice but to walk through the gauntlet of crazy people, evangelists and vendors in front of the courthouse, Raleigh's own speaker's corner. We know the drill, walk fast, face forward and don't make eye contact.

The person downtown workers know most to avoid is the guy in the "Jesus Saves" tee shirt who screams brimstone and damnation vitriol and hands out the scary "everybody's going to hell" religious tracts. Melissa and I, a cute, butch rocker girl and heavily panting, pink-haired chick, made particular haste to rush past him, when he called out, "Hey, was that you in the paper?" *

"That was me," I replied as we kept walking. "Great job!" he replied. I thanked him and kept moving.

"Guess what?!!!," Melissa announced to our friends in the creative studio when we got back upstairs. "Crazy preacher guy knows Leigh Ann!"

What can I say? A fan's a fan, and we take praise where we can get it.

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* My head shot runs in the print version.