The hair or the fish, Marty.

One of my favorite things about my job (and living in Nashville) is random quasi-celebrity sightings. I grew up in a country music family, so I get really excited when I see a country singer in a restaurant or meet them when they come into the studio. Not excited to see or meet them, but excited to tell my family about it. Because, WOW, do they get a kick out of it. Last week while I was sitting at the reception desk, a certain large-haired country singer came in. This guy is a favorite of my mom's, and he comes in every now and then. We've also seen him out in a few restaurants, always looking pretty grungy. I've never spoken to him, just smiled as he walked by and sent an email to my mother. That day, however, he stopped at my desk. Him: Will you watch my fish while I go upstairs? (hands me a plastic bag) Me: Ummm... okay. Him: Thanks. At the time, I happened to be talking to my awesome sister on IM. I told her what had just gone down, and we proceeded to create an whole story about it. Her: You should name the fish and tell him when he gets back. Me: What if they already have names? He may be protective of those names and then fire me. I don't work for him, but if he told me to leave I would. Her: You could take the fish with you. Hold them hostage. Me: Take the fish and run... "You'll never catch me, Stuart!" Her: Hold the bag over the balcony and make him choose between the fish and his awful hair. Me: I'll drop this bag so fast you won't even see it coming I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING. So I'm good and laughing when he comes back around the corner to pick up the fish. He looks at me and says, in quite the gangster voice, "GIMME MY FISH." I was convinced he had somehow read our conversation and knew I was contemplating a fish-napping. I handed them over and told him they'd been on their best behavior. He took them and walked away, then stopped and came back and said, "I bet no one else asks you to sit for their fish today." And left. Now, while this event was pretty great all on it's own, the aftermath was even better. Every family member I talked to wanted to hear the story. My grandpa knew, my aunt knew, my cousin knew. I told that story 15 times. All it takes is an attempted fish-napping to bring the family together.