So I swear that I saw Carlos Santana the other day. No seriously. I was driving to the library. Yes, I go to the library. Waiting for the laughing to end in one, two, three.
This guy had the full on black (maybe pinstriped?) fedora, a loose fitting, open button down shirt and comfortable "cool-guy" jeans. He even had the black coily hair. The only thing missing was the guitar. The entire time I was actually wondering why this guy didn't have his electric guitar swished behind his back, guitar pick in hand. Because of course, Carlos Santana carries his guitar with him everywhere.
Anyway, I get to the library. (I wasn't joking about the library thing.) I get the book I need and print some things off a computer. And then I see this familiar face behind a local newspaper. It was my new friend, Carlos Santana. I ended up staring at him (out of curiousity; I wasn't checking him out). And then I forgot I was staring at him. He looked right back at me probably wondering whay I was staring. Yes, I was caught. And no, it was not Carlos Santana. Not even close. But I had the look-a-like Carlos staring at me because I was curious. I wanted to ask him what it felt like to be Carlos Santana but I was in a library and my wit at that moment wasn't very quick.
And by the way, he was the perfect Monet. He looked like the real thing from far away, but the closer I got, he was nowhere near what I thought he was.