There you are. In the flesh.

No one ever pictures celebrities riding public transportation. Even if someone recognizes you, they'll brush you off as a look-alike. It's genius. But after furiously Googling images on my phone, I know the truth. Time has aged your face, but you have an aura about you that is timeless.

The train jerks, and the urgency of the situation hits me. I am not getting off anytime soon, but what about you, hotshot? Where are you headed? To stop myself from producing an entire short film in my head about your supposed whereabouts, I sit. You're a few seats away scribbling on a notepad.

“Hi.”

The word weakly escapes from my mouth without my explicit consent. Either you're ignoring me or the sounds of the train drowned out my voice. I assume the latter and try again.

“Hi, I'm Trisha. You're Alton Brown, right?”

You look up. All of a sudden, I'm back in my childhood home sitting way too close to the television. I swallow hard and continue.

“My family watched Good Eats religiously. My sister and I would curl up next to our dad on the couch and hang onto your every goofy, science-backed word. You were mesmerizing to us as kids. My dad was figuring out his way around the kitchen at the time. He loves to cook, and you really helped him gain the confidence to experiment. There were a few burnt pizzas here and there, but you should try his goat and papaya stew. He knows what he's doing.”

I realize then that I've been babbling. You haven't had a chance to respond. I should shut up. I do shut up. I'll never speak again probably.

You smile warmly. “Thank you. Goat stew with papaya sounds delicious. I love hearing that Good Eats had a positive impact on your family. I had a blast working on it.”

“It shows.”

“Are you local? Perhaps you can help me with something.”

“Anything!”

“I’m on a mission to try more restaurants in the city. I jotted down a few my colleagues have suggested. Got any favorites?” He hands me his pen and yellow pad. I hesitate, but as soon as ideas start rolling, I can't stop. My mouth is watering at the thought of hand-pulled noodles with lamb, kimchi mac and cheese, pupusas, breakfast burritos, ravioli stuffed with Granny Smith apples and sausage, Korean cheesesteak, lobster bisque, sweet potato pineapple pizza, and fry bread. I internally mourn the loss of my favorite vegan soul food joint. I write down my go-to spots as quickly as I can.

“I'm glad I ran into you!” You mean that. You're amused by my zeal. I ask about your current projects, and you humor me. We bond over our love for Atlanta and not-too-sweet desserts. We chat about your experience at Dragon Con several years ago.

Before departing, you sign your autograph on the bottom of a yellow page and rip it out.

“For your dad.”