A few weeks ago, Sean and I went to our first Hollywood Bowl show of the season. Along with thousands of others, we watched Grease and sang along to the classic hits. It was a fun night and my inkling that the beloved musical isn’t really kid-appropriate was confirmed. A few choice words in “Greased Lightening” were censored on the big screen with pictures (e.g., a cat, cow and can of whipped cream).

I usually don’t stay all the way until the very end of a show at the Hollywood Bowl. I’ll listen to the last song as I make my way out. Not this time. We were stuck in the throngs. On the walk back to the parking structure at Hollywood & Highland, we navigated the crowded sidewalk like we would in Times Square. Soon we were ahead of the crowd of drunk, slowly walking Grease fans. We only stopped when we had to at lights or driveways.

I was a little impatient as we waited for an SUV to exit the parking lot at the Methodist church on Franklin and Highland. That was until the woman in the passenger seat leaned over to the driver’s side window and said “I read your blog.” I couldn’t hear her, but was able make out the words. I was amused. I smiled and waved back and then she was off.

This is the third time I’ve been recognized while out and about. The first was at an education conference. A few months ago, I was recognized on the track at UCLA.

I don’t mind being recognized. If I wanted to avoid getting recognized, I’d be anonymous like The Militant Angeleno or El Chavo. I’ve admitted that I’d try to be nice if a random reader stopped me to say hi. Still, it’s always unexpected and throws me off guard even if I’m genuinely flattered. I hope I don’t come off as a dork, or worse, a jerk to my readers.