The evening I went to Barnes & Noble to pick up a copy of Cameron Diaz's book The Body Book: The Law of Hunger, the Science of Strength, and Other Ways to Love Your Amazing Body, Cameron Diaz was coincidentally speaking about her book. But I didn't realize she'd be until right before I showed up and saw a few paparazzi standing outside in the cold at Union Square comparing lenses. Once I did, I began to get frightened.
Inside, the store showed few signs that there was a celebrity in its midst – except for a large poster in the front that indicated that if you were there for the reading, you should purchase your book at the counter. That seemed easy enough, though I felt weird about the fact that I wasn't going to the reading because of prior plans, a feeling exasperated by the aggressive nature of the sales clerk at the counter. "You're here for Cameron Diaz, right?" he said, pegging me in a way that made me wonder if he knew more about me than I knew (or know) about myself. When I quickly nodded, he asked me if I needed more than one book, rattled off a list of instructions about not losing my receipt, and warned me that Barnes & Noble/Diaz's private security might be patting me down upstairs. I felt so guilty about not actually attending the reading (partially because of a missed opportunity to see a celebrity that nags at many of us) that I actually took the escalator one flight up and debated sticking around for a moment, before putting the book in my purse and sneaking out the door.