Yes, Hello, It Is Me. : Who's Hiding In Your Local Yogurt Shop?

We all have dreams, big and small. Some attainable, some not so much. One small dream of mine was birthed about 2 and half years ago when I first watched a video diary from One Direction’s X-Factor days. Yes, yes, I’m that girl. If you’re a directioner, you know the importance of these video diaries. Little did I (or my parents) know that this was the start of an obsession that would follow me until my college days (and probably further.) *jabs Capri Sun pouch with straw*

For those of you who haven’t yet jumped on the 1D bandwagon, here is some background information. 5 boys, 4 of which are British, the other Irish, separately auditioned for the British X-Factor. Long story short, after not making it to the competition as solo artists, Nicole Sherzinger and Simon Cowell put them together as a group and thus, we have this global pop culture phenomenon. Despite coming in 3rd on the show, they gained enough fan support to continue making music as a group and enough to make them the biggest boyband in the world. *sips Capri Sun*

Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Harry Styles, Liam Payne, and Niall Horan were probably crafted by angels with the main purpose of slaying the female heart. Something about British boybands just drags the female population in... and takes our dignity and our money. Darn you, Simon Cowell. After seeing their movie three times (once with my father, might I add), I’ve decided that it’s a mixture of their humor, their personalities, and their seemingly odd ability to remain completely levelheaded and unharmed by the Hollywood scene that makes them so appealing and relatable. And I know this is true because I MET TWO OF THEM. *blows up Capri Sun pouch*

I’m a Harry girl. Always have been, always will be. I’ve loved him since the beginning and I probably always will. *quickly shoves Harry cardboard cutout into closet* Again, if you’re a directioner, you know how hard it is to meet them one-on-one without the media hysteria or having to sacrifice your first-born. They are in high-demand and their security is prime, safely guarding them from the passionate fan base that follows them wherever they go. Since I am one of those passionate fans, I purchased my Take Me Home world tour ticket 15 months in advance. The early bird gets the worm, eh? It was like the Hunger Games trying to get a hold of one during Pre-Sale, and it actually did cost an arm and a leg, but it’s what normal young adults do, I think. Hey Mom and Dad, I’m a teenager who doesn’t get invited to parties, let me rebel for once, and by rebel I mean sacrifice my monetary goods for the advancement of the music industry (???). Anyway, point in case, I was/am a dedicated fan. THIS IS WHERE THE STORY BEGINS. *blows up Capri Sun pouch more and laughs hysterically*

My gal pals (is that too weird of a term for my friends?) decided we were going to get our last official fangirl moment in before we entered “the real world”, so we planned on going to downtown Denver to “stalk” One Direction when they were there, along with 300 other girls. Wipe those judgmental expressions off your face. To begin the recitation of this adventure, we need some more background information. One Direction arrived in Denver the night of the 22nd/the morning of the 23rd, to enjoy a day off and celebrate their three year anniversary. As they were frolicking around the 303, I was slaving away at work, trying to function without any sleep from the night before. Good pal Lyss hits me up and says “Hey, let’s go meet up with the other trolls in Denver and find these mystical foreign musicians.” So with eight double shots of espresso coursing through my veins, we rolled out of town in Jennifer Vaniston, my trusty vehicle. The trip down there was no walk in the park. With the emergency brake forgetfully still engaged, my actual brakes failed on us, almost causing a few fender benders. Once we reached safety, we frantically called Mckenzie and Clarissa to come save us. It would have been fine if their car hadn’t been stolen. That’s a whole different story, but after much stress and police involvement, their car was retrieved. At this time, we were too pooped for One Direction, but we fixed our eyes on the prize (a Shirley Temple and hummus, in our case) and went along with it. The joke was actually on us, because they weren’t even in Denver. After trekking through the Mile High and achieving some pretty impressive blisters, we journeyed back home. At Mckenzie’s house, we got word through friends that Louis and Liam were spotted on Pearl Street in Boulder. About a 20 minute drive from us. “Why not?” Mckenzie and I thought. We hopped into Earl with Selena Gomez and Cody Simpson tunes blasting and headed towards the iconic flatirons that represent Boulder. Pearl Street is our Boulder hang out, so we just wandered around, hanging out, not really expecting anything. Finally, we decided enough was enough and called it a night. This is where it really gets good! *folds Capri Sun pouch into mock cell phone*

As we were heading back to the car, we passed this yogurt shop on a street off of Pearl. In need a cold delicacy, we decided to stop in. As I walked in I saw a platinum blond head, one resembling the head of Lou Teasdale, co-founder of Bleach London, stylist to One Direction, and close friend of Harry Styles. I don’t know exactly what went on in my head exactly, probably something like “If that’s really Lou, Harry’s most likely with her I’m not gonna look I bet Harry’s behind me nope don’t shart now Zara.” Cool, calm, and collected, we made our way to the front. Mckenzie, having more balls than I, looked and saw that it was in fact Harry Styles, the charming one with the low, raspy voice and the face resembling that of a young Mick Jagger. “Zara, don’t freak out but Harry Styles is behind you. And Harry Styles just turned around and looked at us.” whispered Mckenzie as I was still facing the opposite direction. “Oh.” is the only thing I managed to utter. I slowly turned around, trying hard not to break into hives or bang my head into a wall. Indeed, it was him! And he was dressed as a hobo. No wonder no one in Boulder recognized him. A grimy bandana around the head is basically uniform here. But let’s just focus on the fact that he had dirt under his nails and I was so intrigued by it. *calls mom on Capri Sun cell phone*

I don’t remember much after that except that Mckenzie started giggling and I took 10 minutes to order a small piece of mochi. We sat there on a bench, straight backed, trying to be as laid-back as possible. At the time, I think we both thought we were being cool, but looking back, we were quite possibly the most awkward we’ve ever been, which is saying something. The only other customers in the shop was this couple sitting next to us who graciously offered us their table, clearly oblivious to the fact that the most beautiful man was sitting inches away from them. All I remember saying to them was “NO WE’RE FINE THANKS” in a decibel quite louder than I was anticipating. It was strangely quiet after that and I remember seeing out of the corner of my eye Harry’s table turn toward us and stare. Take a picture, it’ll last longer, Harold. After a few moments of being silently weird and making awkward eye contact with him, he got up to tip the ladies working there. “Moment of truth!” I said to myself. “Harry...” I say as I slowly stand in a non-awkward way. We said that we were sorry for bothering him, but asked if we could get a picture. He said of course, but only if we got a picture of him and his friends. He handed his phone to Mckenzie who, with shaky hands, captured the moment that received well over 600,000 likes on Instagram. He then asked us what we ordered. I said chocolate mint mochi and mumbled about how green tea sucked. We got the picture, it was fine and dandy until my phone rang in my pocket against his thigh, which was probably weird but why am I questioning it. No one calls me, but the one time someone did my thigh was pressed up against Harry Styles’ thigh. Gr8. Anyway, he wished us a good, safe night and went on his merry way. After we regained consciousness, we left as well. I don’t want to say we followed him because it makes us sound much more creepy than we were, but we just wanted to see where he was going (that did sound creepy.) There were a few girls outside of the hotel he was staying at who told us that Niall was at the restaurant across the street. He came out and took pictures with everyone who had waited for him, which I thought was a very nice gesture. After he left and after a call from my mother (“IT’S ALMOST MIDNIGHT, GET BACK HOME”), I followed Mckenzie to what I thought was the way to our car. On the side of the building was a balcony with a figure on it. When you see a figure on a balcony, your first response is to yell “ROMEO ROMEO WHERE ART THOU ROMEO,” and that’s just what I did. Unfortunately, this time around it was Harry. He said “I wouldn’t be Romeo since I’m not down there.” to which I replied “what” so he repeated. I focused on my breathing. He said “Hey you’re the girl from the yogurt shop,” I said “yeah,” and proceeded to trip over the curb. We had a normal conversation with him for about 15 minutes (!!!!!!) until I maturely said “Mckenzie, we need to go home before my mom grounds me.” So we said our farewells and headed back home. We kept our cool for a while until we saw that he had posted the picture Mckenzie had taken on Instagram. Then we lost it, which is ok because we had just met two people who are basically impossible to come in contact with and because maturity. *drinks another Capri Sun pouch*

So that’s my experience meeting Harry Styles and Niall Horan. I’m really not as stalkerish as I sound. It still just gets me sometimes. Like who randomly meets Harry Styles in a locally owned yogurt shop in an alley at 10:30 at night and then proceeds to meet Niall? I do, apparently. With my espresso stained shirt and greasy hair. Grunge is in, right? I’m sure he had a lovely impression of us until we showed up under his balcony. Whatever, whatever. I think a lesson we can all learn from this experience is that the members of One Direction are as kind as they are portrayed in their movie and that you never know who’s hiding in your local yogurt shop.

*throws Capri Sun pouches away in disgust*

Xoxo, Gossip Girl.