JB in Brazil

The city square in Salvador was packed for Brazil’s annual Carnival, and I just barely noticed the small hand pulling at the back of my shirt. I had become desensitized to being groped and pick-pocketed and, after the sky got dark, it felt almost unnatural to be in a crowded area without the feeling of opportunistic hands digging around in my pockets. I turned to see a girl about five smiling, and her mother standing behind her. She asked for a photo and held out a camera. The girl excited mentioned Justin Beiber. I was used to it; being called Justin Beiber.  Rarely a day passed as I backpacked across South America where someone didn't feel the overwhelming urge to point out my resemblance. They even shouted it across the street. It was annoying and inaccurate, but I couldn't bring myself to say no to this girl or her pleading mom. Figuring they just thought it was fascinating that I looked like him, I agreed. After I took the picture, I turned around to see a line of about ten kids, and their mothers, waiting. Waiting in line to take their picture with me. Justin Beiber. By now, I was committed. There was also no way I’d be able to explain the situation in Portuguese and there was no way I’d be able to walk away from these children. The first few pictures went alright and they were all ecstatic to take their picture with a celebrity. One girl, in particular, looked at the ground as she approached me. Slowly, she looked up and tried to speak. Standing in front of me, unable to find any words, she broke down, and began crying uncontrollably. All I could do was hug her,  and take the picture, her smile shining on her tear stained face. If felt pretty unbelievable to be famous, even for only a few minutes. Afterwards, I came away with a great story and those girls left believing they met one of their idols. They are going to be very disappointed when they develop those pictures.