Coming from Fort Wayne Indiana, any celebrity encounter is thrilling because when you grow up away from the coasts, your chances are limited to see famous people, let alone converse with them just because they aren't milling about. And before the internet, it was TV, movies and magazines only so their mystery was kept solid. As I'm writing this it's April 22nd, Glen Campbell's birthday. I love Glen Campbell and his music. I grew up listening to him and watching him on television. While working as a front desk receptionist at the Hacienda Resort and Convention Center in Fresno California, he stayed in our hotel.
He was playing in town that night and asked me to come to his room after my shift as he was having a little 'party' after the show. Something about the way he leaned in and the way he spoke. I was 22, and definitely considered it but was not naive. I knew it was possible someone like Mr Campbell had processes in place to keep himself
entertained all through his tour by methods as simple as friendly invitations. I didn't find him attractive and as I recall he was bloated and bearded at that time. But I would have loved to hear his stories, to talk to him about music and what it was like to be a successful entertainer, something that I wanted to be. But not if it meant shtupping him. Nonetheless I drove by his room slowly at the end of my shift in my navy blue Volkswagen. He did indeed have a little party happening in his room. In my slow motion memory he was on his balcony looking out as I slumped down in my seat trying not to be noticed. I always wondered what would have happened if I knocked on that door.
I laugh because now, 30 some years later I have my three stories that I file in a mental folder called 'I could have slept with this celebrity'. And the funniest part is the other two are Rick Springfield and Mel Brooks. The fact that this is my final 'list' is hitting me so funny today. And really they could have all been innocent invitations to share a drink and laughs. But I'm pretty sure these were cases where I was reading the signals correctly, which admittedly I'm terrible at generally. So Rick Springfield did an in-store appearance at Virgin Megastore where I worked. Afterwards we were talking in the office alone and his publicist came in to say they needed to run. He was locking in on me and seemed to find me fascinating the way I'd imagine he'd done many times before to other women longing to be desirable. Housewives, young bored mothers, chubby plain Janes, shy insecure girls like me. Even I don't like me that much, so it seemed a little off, all the sudden enchantment. But he is a handsome man and basically anyone who pays attention to you like that is probably going to get a positive response. Once he left, the spell was broken and I thought it would be a good story to race home and torture P with. Then I got a phone call. It was Rick Springfield! He said he left his son's jacket in the store and would I be willing to do him a huge solid and drop it by his hotel room, giggle giggle. His phone voice had hands! It was saying all kinds of other things with it's tone. Well I was thrilled and ran to tell everyone. But of course I didn't go.
But my all time favorite was Mel Brooks. He also did an appearance for The Producers Broadway Show soundtrack and I am a huge fan. I found everything funny that he said and was acting like a school girl around him, which I think he was eating up. Before he left, he told me to come meet him for a drink after the show that night at the bar next door to the St James Theater. He held my forearm and pulled me in just a little but just enough. The familiar lean in. I'll never forget that little sparkle in his eyes. But the funny part is me and P were such huge fans that he was almost willing to pimp me out, with supervision. I had tickets to the show which was so awesome, so afterwards we both headed out to the bar to scope it out, waiting in the lurch. From the stage door, out came Mr Brooks alone and he went into the bar and sat alone in the back room just as he'd promised. P was nudging me but I didn't go in. We just snuck off.
We had in-stores with attractive people all the time, but no such stories to tell. Johnny Depp with Hunter S Thompson drunk off his ass bringing a case of vintage wine and Ed Bradley. Their party was contained and restrictive. Our only interaction was me asking him to please not smoke cigars and acting as their gopher all night. This all seems fitting now actually. I wouldn't trade my three stories no matter how lame they are.
Some of my best food accomplishments are just as random. I was very hurried on this night, an after work meal. I'm trying not to eat so late but my schedule makes it difficult. To save time, I chopped the baby kale and included it in the ground turkey along with lots of garlic and grated onion. It was great and left it vibrant green but tender enough. And simply thin sliced Vidalia onion and green apple with arugula made the best side salad.
