On Meeting Johnny Marr at the Supermarket
I was standing in the beer aisle, perusing the selection in the fridge case, as I am wont to do, when I felt someone hovering behind me. I turned, noticed a familiar face and then returned my full attention to the beer. Upon turning around a second time, however, I realized that the reason I had recognized the person standing behind me was because it was Johnny fucking Marr.
As I stood dumbfounded in front of the cooler, Marr walked off and began filling up a cardboard container with prepared foods. In the past, whenever I’ve been faced with a similar situation, I’ve always chosen not to bother the celebrity in the public space, no matter how great the temptation. When it comes to matters concerning the Smiths, however, I’ve often found it difficult to suppress even the most embarrassing of my fanboyish tendencies. After it looked like he had finished filling his container, I walked up to him and asked if his name was Johnny. He was shorter than I had imagined, had a great haircut and looked a little surprised but replied that yes, his name was in fact Johnny. I apologized for bothering him in the supermarket and told him that I’m a great fan of his work, etc. He was super cool about it and set down his container in order to shake my hand. He then asked me if I would be coming to the Cribs show later on. I lied and said that I would try to make it, though in all honesty, I haven’t really followed Marr’s career post-Electronic and have never even heard the Cribs before (though I had been considering whether or not I should go see them, if only to see Johnny Marr on stage playing a guitar). He remarked that they would be going on at 10 and I asked, “You guys are at the 9:30, right?” referring to the 9:30 Club. “No, I’m pretty sure we go on at 10 but I’d have to check,” he replied. Then, out of the blue, he asked me, “Do you play?” I said that I did not but that I was a writer who covered music. “Ohhhhhhhh,” he sighed, rolling his eyes with the sort of half-mocking wit that only an Englishman could muster. I wished him luck with the show and he remarked that it “should be good fun” before walking off. In hindsight, I’m surprised that I was able to carry out a conversation with him somewhat coherently, though I must admit, I felt a bit weak in the knees afterward, as I stood next to the organic tomatoes and tapped out a text message to my brother (“I JUST MET JOHNNY MARR AT WHOLE FOODS NO SERIOUSLY”). Also, I was so starstruck that I forgot to buy a loaf of bread and had to go through the checkout line a second time. It was worth the minor inconvenience.
