Ooo ooo ooompa loompa - and the thrill of humans

I have had the serendipitous pleasure of a couple random street encounters with some very important people in the last few weeks. The first was about two weeks ago, and as I was walking home from work I came upon a humble group of people clambering about on the sidewalk with a few policemen blocking my road home. When I attempted to avoid the crowd and pass by I was stopped and told I had to wait. The annoyance was surprising, as if whatever they were waiting for was worth blockading such a large swath of sidewalk. Surely however noteworthy the expected person(s) was they could yield one small path for commuters like myself. And just as I was about to make a dash for the gap in the crowd (as there was only about five feet blocked off) an entourage of black cars pulled up and out popped Prince Charles and Camilla. I could have spat as far as they stood (which is close because I’ve never been much good at spatting) – and I’m almost completely sure that the Prince and I might have made eye contact and exchanged smiles. It was such an odd chance run in and spurred the most fascinating and illuminating conversation about he Royals later in the evening. Its something I don’t think we get at all as Americans, and gave me a more profound respect for the Brits and insight into the cultural undertones that lend the legitimacy attributed to the Royal Family.

Much more to be said about the Royal family, but in later posts because I must move on to the truly exciting encounter I had on Friday. I had crashed late at a friends and was heading back to drop off some things before heading out for the night and a man of rather understated stature walked past. He was well dressed, very well in fact, which is unusual for a 4’4’ man. And in a moment of supreme delight I realized… I know this man. Rather, I know this true 'Blue Blooded' descendant of India's Maharajah Vinepal, best known to the common man as “Every single one of the 165 Oompa-Loompas in Tim Burtons Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." It was non-other than Gordeep Roy, known as “Deep” to his friends. I was so star struck I could only gawk, which sadly he is probably used to, but I only wish I had the presence of mind to ask for a photo op or autograph. He probably thought my chin was getting road rash because of his understated stature, but it was complete and unabashed idol worship.

I’ve realized that the excitement I get from those encounters is ridiculous, and although its normal – I mean who gets to see an Oompa Loompa beside a news stand at Victoria station – but why don’t I get that rush from every brief encounter. Why don’t I walk down the street and get overcome with exhilarating joy at the site of HUMANS. “That was a man or woman” I should shout – internally so as not to scare them – but with a sense of profound awe. After all it is amazing that every person we pass on the street is infinitely valuable, with amazing stories, emotions and dreams – as well as morning breath and dirty underwear. It’s such a challenge to be pathologically swept away with a thrill of humanity. I don’t have it yet… but I want it.