My wife and I went on a date of sorts tonight. Her sister had gotten us tickets to see Tim McGraw. Before the show we stepped outside so yours truly could grab a smoke.
Standing on a terrace outside the arena, I looked over the balcony and noticed the man of the hour (and his wife Faith Hill too) walking from their tour bus into a service entrance.
“Tim!” I yelled out.
To my surprise he stopped dead in his tracks, looked up, and paused a good ten seconds for me to take a picture. Class act.
And by the way, I always “live like I was dying”. It’s called frequent confession.
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 