I walk in around 9am, right when people in LA briefly stop staring in the mirror in order to attend yoga class. It's deserted except for one other guy. I order the olive oil fried eggs. They're ridiculously good. I read Etgar Keret's new memoir and try to look cool.
Then a couple walks by my table. Without looking up, I hear a voice and I know who the guy is.
The emcee of The Roots, Black Thought, is one of my favorite rappers. Your mom knows him as the guy on The Tonight Show who stands a few feet from Questlove. He was saying something about going back to work next week. I can't help but hear this because we're in an empty restaurant, and the waitress decided to seat them next to me.
I go back to reading my book. I do a fantastic job of not invading his privacy, and even though I'm a fan, I didn't want to interrupt him at breakfast. I walk out without giving him a second glance because I don't want to be that guy.