I’ve never really understood people who say they’re bored. Maybe it’s because I grew up in Vermont. As a kid, summer came with two basic choices: Help my mother in her massive garden. Or get the hell out of the house and figure something out. So I figured things out.
Years later, when I lived in Boston, I apparently never outgrew that habit. If I had an hour for lunch, I didn’t need a plan. I could wander through Boston Common, walk toward Quincy Market, watch the tourists, look at the swan boats, and generally see what happened. And occasionally, I would make something happen. One of my favorite stupid little games was sneaking into someone's group photograph. Not dramatically. Just at the last possible second. Smile. Click. Run. Disappear. Sometimes I’d even put my arm around somebody.
The best part wasn't the picture.It was imagining the conversation later. “Who was that guy?” “What guy?” “The guy standing next to you.” “I thought you knew him.” “No!” “Oh... damn."
I also once thought about how funny it would be to stand at a crowded airport arrival gate holding a sign that said: I MISSED YOU, DADDY. Then, when some completely innocent guy walked through the doors with his wife or girlfriend, run up, hug him like he'd just returned from a six-month expedition to Antarctica...… and disappear. I did that at the arrivals gate to a random family man and his kids once with the aforementioned wild post kiss dash, but heard him say "Gina? I have no clue who that was. Really!" Somebody's going to have questions on the ride home.
But the best one happened in Boston Common. I was sitting on a bench eating lunch when a couple visiting from Texas approached me.
“Mr. Lowe!”
They were genuinely excited. “We're huge fans.” I laughed. “You've got the wrong guy.” They insisted I was Rob Lowe. To be fair, when I was younger, I had been told I looked a little like him.I explained that I was not Rob Lowe.I was Fred.Just Fred.Eating lunch.They weren't buying it.I showed them my driver's license.They looked at it.Then they basically dismissed it.“Celebrities use fake names.”I remember thinking:Well, shit.At that point, I had two choices.I could continue arguing with reality...or I could accept the reality they had already created.So I shrugged.“Okay. You got me.”And just like that, I became Rob Lowe.For the next few minutes, I played along.We walked around Boston Common.Pictures by the swan boats.Pictures near the statues.Pictures with the skyline.Smiling.Waving.Generally behaving like a celebrity who apparently had absolutely nothing better to do that afternoon.I drew the line at autographs.That seemed like crossing into actual fraud.But photographs?Sure.A few minutes later, they thanked me and happily went on their way.I went back to work.And somewhere in Texas, I like to imagine that couple telling the story.“We met Rob Lowe in Boston!”And eventually somebody pulls out the photographs.Everyone looks.Someone squints.Then finally:“Uh...”“What's wrong?”“That doesn't look like Rob Lowe.”Silence.“Who the hell is that guy?”And honestly?That's the whole point.Some of the best moments in life don't require a plane ticket, a reservation, $200, or three months of planning.Sometimes you're just sitting on a bench eating lunch.Sometimes you're walking through a city.Sometimes you're standing in an airport.And sometimes you have the opportunity to make an otherwise completely ordinary moment just a little more ridiculous.You don't need more money to have more fun.You don't necessarily need more time.You might just need to look around and ask:What could I do with this?Because boredom isn't always a lack of things to do.Sometimes it's a lack of curiosity.And occasionally...it's a willingness to become Rob Lowe for five minutes.Against your better judgment.