When will the paparazzi leave me alone?

Looks like someone recognized me on the subway. I do remember a man, who may have been "greg" but how could I know, looking at me and at my book, but even in model-filled Manhattan, occasionally someone (male--I repel lesbians, remember) will look at me, and on these occasions my first thought is not, "aha, a WWPD reader!" That would be absurd.

OK, I have thought this before, that I've been "recognized"--it happened periodically at Chicago, where I had a column in the school paper and where a higher concentration of people read this blog--but my friends always laugh at me and my massive ego when I suggest this as a possibility in NYC. (My friends, though, keep me grounded. Which is important, you know, if you're a celebrity.)

But it turns out my suspicions were not as out there as they seemed. What do you know.