Sandi and I are at the post office on a Friday afternoon, standing in line behind a little short guy in an orange UT hat. We're both trying to apply for a passport. He's killing a good deal of his time waiting talking on a cell phone.
So once I finally get through all the forms and such, and we're just about finished, Mr. Short Guy wraps up his ordeal, and leaves. The guy behind the counter asks "Do you know who that was?"
We didn't.
"Bobby Hamilton" he states proudly.
I'm hoping at least some of you have the same blank look on your face that I did.Ever the helpful one, Sandi pipes up "NASCAR driver."
The other lady behind the counter gets all a tither and asks if he'd gotten his autograph. The guy waiting on me tells her sure - he signed the same form the rest of us did. Not only did he have his autograph, he had his home address and phone number.
4 comments:
LMAO--that was classic. I was just happy there was someone in this world shorter than me! :D
That's too funny.
I'm going through NASCAR withdrawals until Feb. Not quite sure what to do with my Sunday afternoons now. LOL
As big a fan as I am I don't think I would have recognized Bobby Hamilton either.
I wouldn't have recognized him either - he's not that great of a driver... although I shouldn't talk - mine sucked this year. :)
Great story! Sandi, I'm impressed with your knowledge of the finer things in life. ;)
Don't be THAT impressed, oh redneck woman. :P
I dated a guy for 6 years who was obsessed with NASCAR--his whole family was. I even went to races! :o
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