The man behind the check-out counter at Whole Foods told me my braided hairstyle made me look like Padmé.
Me: I’m sorry?
Check-out Man: Padmé. She’s a character in Star Wars.
Hm. Right. Not exactly what I was expecting. Also, who the F is Padmé? Couldn’t he at least stick with a conventional Princess Leia reference? I felt the mood of the crowd of people in line behind me switch from mild annoyance to slight bemusement. A-holes.
I forced polite yet uncomfortable laughter, unsure as to how I should proceed.
Me: Ahh.
Silence. Brief ponderance of etiquette slash social norms. Briefer ponderance of movie dialogue used when portraying similar situations.
Nothing. It was time to call on a staple.
Me: Well, I shall take that as a compliment.
I thought this signaled an end. It always signals an end. But no. There was more he wanted me to know.
I could see the nerdish excitement bubbling up from somewhere. Somewhere it had been lurking for years, deep-seated on a fraying couch.
No. Please. Please don’t. Please just ring up my 3 coconut waters, two packages of Tofurky and single vegan chocolate chip cookie, so I can exit this mocking semi-circle of lunchtime shoppers.
Oh, but he did.
He launched into an exultant spiel. My listening lasted approximately 5 words.
Check-out Man: She was the wife of mumbojumboblahblahexpositorydetailneedlessinformationwaytoomucheverythingpleasemakeitstopimsoembarrassedrightnow.
When his oration finally came to a halt, I gathered my groceries along with the remaining scraps of my dignity and beelined it back to the office to Google search my new apparent identity.
Padmé Amidala. Secret wife of Anakin Skywalker.
Great. I’m a glorified mistress.
At least she’s pretty?