The first and only time I met Kurt Vonnegut, I was waiting for the Met to open up on what was a very early morning for me – when out of nowhere, I hear my Dad exclaim, “Evan! Look! It’s Kurt Vonnegut!” and I froze and watched the man in question pass, then breathed again when I knew he was gone.
Then my Dad mused – “Where is he?”
And I turned around and he was right there, right behind me – looming and glowering – and so I kept on turning, my back as stiff as an arrow.
