The other day I got on the subway and I noticed a rather large middle aged man sitting across from me, and reading an unidentified book.
Unidentified, that is, if you aren’t a fellow fan of the popular series that this man was currently being entranced by. I saw through his clever plan of taking off the colorfully illustrated book jacket. I do the same thing when I re-read HARRY POTTER books.
Right away, I got excited. I felt that sort of nerd-kinship that you experience whenever you come across another person who has the same appreciation as you do for this sort of cult-creating societal phenomenon. In this case, someone else who knows all too well the sensational, dazzling, brilliance that is J.K. Rowling.
I wanted to go sit next to him, lean over, and very softly whisper this:
“Did you get to the part where Ron and Hermione kiss yet?”
If I just ruined anything for you, get over it. You should have read the 7th book by now if you care that much, and if you were just watching the movies, the pathetic excuse for “subtle” foreshadowing they employ has -I’m sure- led you to believe that it would happen sooner or later.
Anyway…
My urge to talk to this man was overwhelming. I found myself staring, STARING at this guy, while also trying to figure out what chapter he was on.
If nothing else, I just wanted to let him know that he was NOT fooling ME. I knew perfectly well what he was trying to conceal.
But then, my stop came, and I had to leave him. He’ll never know that we had such a connection.
He’ll just never know.
That is all.
