Monday, November 3, 1997
Bruin columnist retells crashing Hollywood-fest filled with
stars
COLUMN VanderZanden epitomizes suaveness as she meets famous
people
The following is a frightening tale. It may chill you. It may
thrill you. It may even incite you to do crazy, sinister things, if
that’s the kind of Bruin you are. However, it will definitely
disturb you.
At least, it disturbs me. It is the story of a college newspaper
writer who, though she has often mocked others for spazzing over
meeting famous blockheads, found herself in the throes of utter
uncoolness one fine October evening, not so long ago. Yes, she
crashed a minor Hollywood shmoozefest and all of a sudden became as
intoxicated by public personalities as a trailer-trash bride at a
soap opera convention. Let’s rehash the sad, sad scene that played
out before the rest of the inhabitants of her lovely abode later
that evening.
"Okay, so Kym and I were standing outside this …" I begin,
about four or five glasses of a fine Chardonnay pumping through my
system.
"It was a children’s bookstore and …" Kym continues, body
spinning from one end of the kitchen table to the next.
"Yeah! Tim Burton! He was signing books."
"And Vanessa got him to record his giggle!"
"And Michael Keaton patted me on my back!"
"And the guy from ‘Scream’ talked to me about me! About what I’m
doing in L.A. and I was just like, wait, you’re the famous guy!
Shouldn’t we be talking about you?"
"And I’d had like three glasses of wine by then so I started
blabbing his ear off about something having to do with how we must
export toothpicks to India, or something! And …"
Jen, Liz and Sam, the three previously comatose roommates, now
wear a look somewhere between idle shock and extreme terror.
"Wait, I don’t understand – were they passing out speedballs
while you guys were there?" Liz inquires.
"What were they serving on mirrors that you guys are so wired?"
Jen adds, as Sam puts down her fork.
"We just had wine and food and it was – oh my god," I scramble
to get out, "hors d’oeuvres, they had like …"
"We went up and talked to one server for a while – it was some
shrimp roll thing – and Quentin Tarantino was like a foot behind us
…"
"And there was an oyster bar, only we could barely eat a thing
…"
"Our hearts were racing and all Vanessa could say was ‘Oh my
god! Oh my god!’"
"Yeah, for like 10 minutes and I just couldn’t think of anything
else to say; it was all I could think to – oh my god, Kym! I can’t
believe we were just there," I say, hugging her yet again. "I’m so
glad you tried that guy’s invite! My god!"
"Well, what was in your drinks?" Sam wonders, "I mean, they
could have been laced with something."
"No, no," Kym reiterates, stumbling over the floor as she runs
from roommate to roommate. "But we talked to Steve Stevens!"
"Or was it Steve Stevenson?" I begin to get confused.
"Or Steven Stevies?" Kym has as much of a clue as I do.
"Anyway, he’s Billy Idol’s guitarist and I saw him in concert
when I was in the eighth grade," I blurt. Because, well, it seems
sort of relevant.
"And Lori Petty had blue hair and waved to us from her car when
she left!"
"And saw us in the street."
"Like she knew us!"
"Who’s Lori Petty?" asks a baffled Jen, becoming more and more
tired with every spit-happy phrase we spew.
"You know, ‘Tank Girl’! She was in ‘Tank Girl’! I mean, I never
saw it, but isn’t that cool?! I mean, we talked at the reception
and everything!" I inform them. I’m very informative.
"Oh," Liz yawns. "I guess that’s cool."
"Yeah," Kym goes on, "and we were even talking to just random
people! People we didn’t even know who didn’t really know
anyone!"
"And we were trying to figure out who everyone was together!" I
add supportively.
"Well," Sam continues eating. "That sounds like it was probably
fun."
"And, did we mention we got free wine?" Kym remembers.
"Yeah, but are you sure you guys didn’t get anything else with
those glasses?" Jen adds, still not thoroughly convinced we hadn’t
been snorting blow in the bathroom.
"No. But Tim Burton was rad, he just kept giggling!" I still
muster. "Did I say that already? He was like a kid, and he’s so
creative and I just can’t believe we met him!"
"He’s, like, one of the true creative people in this town," Kym
looks off toward a distant place, her eyes filled with pride.
"I love Tim Burton and I love you, Kym!" I say with meaning, as
we hug again. Then I go back to our room and crash.
Here is the epilogue: I spent the next day hyperly writing post
cards in between classes to everyone I know, bragging about the
stars I met. Oh, yes. Because, you see, we were such good buddies.
Sure, I am fully aware how pathetic I truly am just below that thin
veneer of disaffected coolness. No, I haven’t a shred of
self-respect left. But at least I have a piece of paper in my room
that has a scribble on it that some guy who makes awesome movies
scrawled, so, obviously, my departure from suaveness proved
worthwhile. I think we can all see that plainly.
Vanessa Vanderzanden