Updated: Jan 22, 2019
Heading into work one fateful Monday morning, I had just exited Starbucks, looked up and lo and behold there was the world #1 golfer Dustin Johnson, hands in his pockets, amblin' slowly as he is wont to do and doing a little window shopping.
Before I could think, I blurted out "DJ!"
He looked up, totally chill and said 'Hey.'
I approached for a selfie and he was kind enough to oblige.
Just the day before he'd beaten Jordan Spieth in an exciting sudden death at the Northern Trust Open upstate.
First, he canned a 25 ft. downhiller on the 72nd hole to tie and then launched a bomb about 340 over the water on the first playoff hole, cozied a sand wedge within a few feet and BOOM: instant revenge for the US Open debacle the summer before.
I congratulated him on the win and shook his hand.
He continued on his merry way while I headed to the salt mines for another 10 hour day of editing...
I think he was envious of me.