I’ve rubbed up against so many famous people lately that they’ve sunk to the rank of Ordinary for me. So more and more I deal with them just the same as I deal with everyone else.

Diego knows what I’m talking about. He is the “barber to the famous” here in D.C. I’ve been to his shop just off Dupont Circle a few times. The walls are covered in personalized autographs from U.S. presidents, members of Congress, Supreme Court justices, people whose headshots I don’t recognize, and all of the Popes from the last 50 years. Yeah, it’s the kind of place where the owner writes away to get Papal autographs.

That’s where Diego and I diverge (nowadays). He likes a good icon, I’m oclastic toward them. Diego is proud that he was the exclusive barber to Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court William Rehnquist the whole time the latter lived in D.C. And, assumedly through a personal recommendation, Chief Justice John Roberts is now a regular customer.

Mirroring the down-home half of this city, Diego gives the same treatment (though not the same hairstyle) to me as he gives to Justice Roberts — yet those framed glossy photos on the wall demonstrate that he is also dazzled by famousness, reflecting the caste-based “Do you know who I am?” half of the city.

In the hundreds of times I’d walked by, I had never seen Chief Justice Roberts sitting in Diego’s chair. Until yesterday, which was a coincidence because I had just read a news story that mentioned how Roberts writes everything long-hand rather than types, and how he asked recently, in open court, for someone to explain to him the difference between email and pagers…

I strode across Q Street, opened the glass door and was greeted by a nice middle-aged Latina who asked if I wanted a haircut. No, I said, gesturing toward her boss and his client, I just want to say hi. She smiled serenely and turned back to the hair she was cutting.

I appreciate that homey, neighborhoody side to D.C., how you can just drop in and talk to whomever. We’re all equal.

“Hi, Diego!” He waved his comb and started to mouth a greeting. Before he could, though, I turned 20 degrees to the left and bent over slightly to acknowledge the customer in the chair.

“Hi, shit for brains!” I said to the Chief Justice.

Diego started snickering, and when Mr. Roberts saw that I was just joshing, we all shared a laugh. I high-fived the barber lady. Then we all said Nice to See You to each other and I strode back out.