I looked forward to going because Michael Hall (who've I've interviewed on the phone twice but never met) was going to be there. Peter, my date, was really excited about meeting him, being a big "Breakfast Club" fan and all. All right, I lie - I was the really excited one. He kept insisting that Hall had been in "Rambo" (just to drive me crazy) and that he was going to ask him all about it.
I'd been told there would a table being held for us, so I confidently approached the maitre d', told him my name, and that I was with the Cape Cod Times. He looked down at a book which I am convinced didn't have my name in it, and said, "We have no table, but we do have a couch." Peter and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh. I didn't think this sounded good, but thought, maybe it was a totally awesome couch right by the stage! Hope was not initially all lost, there was still a chance it would be an incredible spot to watch the show from.
Well, my hopes were dashed as we were led far from the stage to the back of the venue. Before us was a wicker couch, in front of which were tall bar tables with equally tall stools. We sat down on the couch and burst out laughing. Truly, we had the worst, albeit pretty comfy seats in the house.
When the lights went down and Mercedes took to the stage we basically saw the top of her lovely red hair. Once in a while Peter would, in a mock yell, while pointing at me say, "Mercedes! It's Candy! She's here, on the couch!" And then sometimes, after a song he would whistle and clap, saying he was, "Representing the couch!"
The evening got better with a waiter we could barely understand, but whose name Peter insisted was Hussein, but I'm not so sure. He was certain we were a big disappointment to Hussein since we weren't throwing back the cocktails and eating up a storm. He always looked so sad when we would give him a thumbs up - the universal sign for, "Everything is A-Okay!"
Before intermission - when I planned to make a bee-line for the Hall family table to say hello, I excused myself to go to the restroom - where I promptly locked myself in the bathroom stall. I couldn't stop laughing. It just seemed like such a perfect thing to happen on this extremely A-List night I was having. I did eventually jiggle the handle in a very aggressive fashion and opened it, thereby avoiding the germ-covered crawl under the stall in my skirt and heels.
When the lights came up I knew we needed to get to Michael before the throngs (lots of young girls!) descended on Michael. I told Peter, "Thundercats are go!" and jumped to my feet. Well, again I lie. In retrospect I thought how much cooler it would have been if I'd said that rather than, "Okay, we better get over there fast!"
We got to the table after transversing a maze of tables and people, and I finally got to meet Michael and his beautiful girlfriend who, even though I'm almost 5'10", made me feel like a Munchin (little person, not donut hole).
Mission accomplished, we headed back to our couch in the Siberian section of tent, but Peter suggested, since I'd met Mercedes a few times we try to find her and say hi. We did find her and her husband Tom insisted we go meet Michael - again. So, we got to re-meet Anthony Michael Hall, and I hoped he didn't think I was stalking him. Actually I had a lovely conversation with him about his upcoming directorial debut while Peter talked to Tom about I do not know. Couches perhaps?
By the second set we were back on our couch. We stayed for a little bit, but decided we should go since we were getting too silly after night on the couch. We didn't to disturb anyone else.
So I gathered my things and we worked our way out of exile toward the exit. We passed Hussein on the way and Peter gave him a tip. I think we'd bonded with him, we'd been through lot together.
I know there's no way they would have put Maureen Dowd or Anna Quindlen on the couch, but that's okay. We C-List people are happy to sit together. Even if it is on a wicker couch.
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