BY PRISCILLA RICE
It was a Monday. I always try to start off my work week in a positive tone, but I simply wasn't feeling it. I had a migraine and went to work anyway. I had heard that my favorite athlete, one of the best footballers that has ever lived, was going to be in the same city as I. This is the only famous person that makes me feel like a ridiculous school girl (the only other one would probably be author Paulo Coelho). THE Cristiano Ronaldo was going to be in the same city as I, so a migraine and a long work day were not going to keep me from catching a glimpse of this super-human, someone I consider the equivalent of a Greek god straight out of mythology. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see him, I thought, so I took it.
It was a Monday. I always try to start off my work week in a positive tone, but I simply wasn't feeling it. I had a migraine and went to work anyway. I had heard that my favorite athlete, one of the best footballers that has ever lived, was going to be in the same city as I. This is the only famous person that makes me feel like a ridiculous school girl (the only other one would probably be author Paulo Coelho). THE Cristiano Ronaldo was going to be in the same city as I, so a migraine and a long work day were not going to keep me from catching a glimpse of this super-human, someone I consider the equivalent of a Greek god straight out of mythology. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see him, I thought, so I took it.