Holy shit, I thought. There he is. Having spent hours of my life watching Guy Fieri watch people cook on TV, it felt somehow impossible that I was now in the same space as him. It was like seeing Santa Claus (and not one of his “helpers” at the local mall), if Santa had bleached beard. While I was still recovering from shock of seeing him, I was also informed that I would be given time to talk with Mr. Fieri one-on-one, something I had neither planned on nor prepared for. I was starving, my muscles like noodles, holding nothing but my cell phone, key card, and press pass. It would help if I could eat something, but all the food sitting out was not for eating, just for photographing. I used my iPhone to take a few bad pictures as a way to pass time and feign a larger purpose for my being there.