Why Do You Ask?

We're eating Thursday night at El Tapatio, pound for pound the best Mexican food in town, when four young people come in dressed all in black, three of them tapping away wildly on blackberries. I lean over to my wife and whisper "they have to be involved with the campaign." Chelsea Clinton was speaking down the street and this crew either seemed like volunteers or people associated with the Clinton campaign in one way or another.

We finish our food and as we're sucking on our mints and waiting for the check to come back, I glance again. I was right. They were involved with the campaign as one of them was, indeed, Chelsea Clinton.

I'm an Obama guy, for a number of reasons, but could live with Hillary as president. I want my daughters to know a democratic president. Anywho, there are two other full tables in the restaurant, and I seem to be the only person who notices one of the most famous people in America, someone who's gone through unbelievable psychic trauma. I mention it to the wife, she agrees and, using only our eyes, we have a conversation about whether or not to go over there and say something to her.

On the one hand, when you have a chance to talk to someone like Chelsea Clinton, you probably want to take it. On the other hand, she's having dinner after speaking in 3 Nebraska locations. Props to her, BTW, for eating at a locally owned eatery, unique to our little town. She chose her vittles well.

I ultimately said nothing to her for two reasons. First, it's not good to bother people who don't need bothering. I know she's campaigning, but I know how much I hate being interrupted during dinner. Second, and more importantly, if your not among the legion of coveted undecided voters, what the hell do you say to Chelsea Clinton? "Thanks for stopping in Nebraska?" "I hope you like the food." Lie and tell her your voting for her mom during Saturday's caucus? I honestly didn't have anything to say to her, but was pleased enough to be in the same restaurant and enjoy her celebrity.

It was also fun telling my oldest who she was as we went to the parking lot. She ran up to the window and smiled at Chelsea. She smiled back at the cute 4-year-old blonde. She's nice. I just don't have anything to say to her and want her to eat in peace.