The Night I Met Adam Savage

Last night was a pretty normal evening. After work I got on the light rail to go home, just like I always do. I sat there, playing Sudoku or reading the New York Times or Jailbird by Kurt Vonnegut. I can’t recall which, but these are the things I do on the light rail. I was somewhat engrossed in my activity for a few stops. Then I randomly looked up.

Seated about 10 feet in front of me I noticed that Adam Savage had gotten on the train. Adam is the kind of celebrity who can go out in public without being mobbed, but is often recognized. In many ways he’s a local celebrity. However, his locality is not physical: it is in the hearts and minds of nerds, geeks, and other science fans wherever they may be found. Adam is sitting there, by himself, reading. He reads books, like a real person. He also takes public transportation. In my mind, Adam is a serious celebrity, just like Wil Wheaton, MC Frontalot, or T.M. Maple. Yes, I really am that much of a nerd.

So what do I do? I don’t want to go fanboy. I’ve been on both sides of this strangely, and neither is desirable. I also don’t want to let this opportunity pass me by. After all, this would be a much less intersting post if the title were “The Night I Almost Met Adam Savage.”

I make my decision. I have about 4 more stops before I get off, which gives me sufficient time to choose the perfect 2-3 sentences. I’ll go over to him, as I’m getting off the train, and say these sentences. It’s not overbearing, but it’s there. “Excuse me, Mr. Savage? I just wanted to thank you for Mythbusters. You’ve answered so many of my questions in a way that I find both entertaining and informative.” Something like that.

Nervousness builds as we approach Beacon Hill Station, where I’ll be departing after speaking my peace to Adam. If I see him stand up to leave before Beacon Hill, I’ll have to make my move early, but why would he get off at SoDo or Stadium Station? And as I hoped, he didn’t. No one ever does this time of night. We enter the tunnel to Beacon Hill Station. I stand up and take a deep breath. I approach Adam, hereafter addressed as “Mr. Savage” (the way in which I chose to address him).

I walk toward Mr. Savage. I’m about 3 feet away, past the door through which I will be exiting. I’m at the point of no return, or at least no non-awkward return. Mr. Savage looks up at me. Myth busted.

What myth? The myth that this was Adam Savage. He wasn’t. He wasn’t Adam Savage at all. He was a balding redheaded gentleman who bore a resemblance to him, but was indeed not him at all. Sometimes you can’t believe everything you see.

Last night was a pretty normal evening. After work I got on the light rail to go home, just like I always do. I sat there, playing Sudoku or reading the New York Times or Jailbird by Kurt Vonnegut. I can’t recall which, but these are the things I do on the light rail. I was somewhat engrossed in my activity for a few stops. Then I randomly looked up.

Seated about 10 feet in front of me I noticed that Adam Savage had gotten on the train. Adam is the kind of celebrity who can go out in public without being mobbed, but is often recognized. In many ways he’s a local celebrity. However, his locality is not physical: it is in the hearts and minds of nerds, geeks, and other science fans wherever they may be found. Adam is sitting there, by himself, reading. He reads books, like a real person. He also takes public transportation. In my mind, Adam is a serious celebrity, just like Wil Wheaton, MC Frontalot, or T.M. Maple. Yes, I really am that much of a nerd.

So what do I do? I don’t want to go fanboy. I’ve been on both sides of this strangely, and neither is desirable. I also don’t want to let this opportunity pass me by. After all, this would be a much less intersting post if the title were “The Night I Almost Met Adam Savage.”

I make my decision. I have about 4 more stops before I get off, which gives me sufficient time to choose the perfect 2-3 sentences. I’ll go over to him, as I’m getting off the train, and say these sentences. It’s not overbearing, but it’s there. “Excuse me, Mr. Savage? I just wanted to thank you for Mythbusters. You’ve answered so many of my questions in a way that I find both entertaining and informative.” Something like that.

Nervousness builds as we approach Beacon Hill Station, where I’ll be departing after speaking my peace to Adam. If I see him stand up to leave before Beacon Hill, I’ll have to make my move early, but why would he get off at SoDo or Stadium Station? And as I hoped, he didn’t. No one ever does this time of night. We enter the tunnel to Beacon Hill Station. I stand up and take a deep breath. I approach Adam, hereafter addressed as “Mr. Savage” (the way in which I chose to address him).

I walk toward Mr. Savage. I’m about 3 feet away, past the door through which I will be exiting. I’m at the point of no return, or at least no non-awkward return. Mr. Savage looks up at me. Myth busted.

What myth? The myth that this was Adam Savage. He wasn’t. He wasn’t Adam Savage at all. He was a balding redheaded gentleman who bore a resemblance to him, but was indeed not him at all. Sometimes you can’t believe everything you see.

The Night I Met Adam Savage