Dan Aykroyd in Chicago

While going through the coupons from the Chicago Tribune last Sunday, Mordecai and I came across an advertisement for an event at Jewel, a local grocery. Dan Aykroyd has been behind some vodka called "Crystal Head Vodka," so he's on a publicity tour signing bottles at liquor and grocery stores, apparently. I actually have not seen "Blues Brothers" and I was too young and scared to understand "Ghostbusters." But I decided to put grading aside to attend this event because last winter, I took a course on Marxism with Charles Mills, and we watched "Trading Places" while eating Thai food. The Marxist analysis of "Trading Places" kind of went over my head, as did the financial specifics of the plot, but this movie nevertheless has a special place in my heart. Mozart's "Marriage of Figaro" has never been put to such great use. I think Mozart would be impressed.

My mom took me to Jewel after class on Monday. She was mildly annoyed at the prospect of having to wait in line for an hour, so she went home and then picked me up later. We walked by this trailer truck thing and I thought maybe this was Dan Aykroyd's tour bus?!

There were a couple of Ghostbuster groupies hanging by the side of Dan Aykroyd's tent, content to just watch their personal hero in action.

Wait for it, wait for it...

His hands were so soft and doughy! I told him I watched "Trading Places" in my Marxism class, and he laughed. We'll likely never know whether he was laughing at me or with me. That's fine with me.

I have to say, it always feels odd standing in line waiting for an extended period of time for something or someone famous. Most people tend to become chatty, and most conversations are more or less open for anyone to join in on. Many people strike me as quite unremarkable despite the fact that they are so willing to open their mouths and talk to everyone about anything that comes to mind. Anyway, I have a hard time not feeling awkward talking to strangers even though I know we obviously have at least one interest in common. Suffice it to say that there was one inane, bro-y man behind me, and an overly chatty and tedious wedding singer in front of me. Was it pure coincidence that the bro-man had hired the singer two years ago for his wedding? Yeah, no.