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She said the man in the gaberdine suit was a spy.

3 Sep

So, every great blog must have a breathtakingly thrilling story of when the blogger (or bloggess) had a brush with greatness.  It isn’t just a blog thing either.  Every red-blooded American has to have a chance to meet fame.

Now I have not spoken to a country music legend, nor have I ever had Will Wheaton send me a picture of himself collating paper, nor has James Garner ever kissed me in front of an elevator.  (Oh how I wish that last one were true.  If I ever did meet James Garner in front of an elevator, I would probably freeze with my eyes huge–like his own personal garden statue–or worse, stare at my feet until he left—which is why he didn’t kiss me when we didn’t meet in front of an elevator because I didn’t jump up and down and gush, “Oh my gosh I LOVE you!!!” before staring at him with saucer eyes until he was forced to take action.

My close encounter with celebrity kind was not so close, though it was thrilling for me and my Mary Kay sister consultants.

About 3 1/2 years ago, I drove up to St.Louis for a Mary Kay conference and stayed with 2 friends in the Renaissance St. Louis Airport Hotel.  As we entered the lobby, we were detoured around to the side of the check in desk because George Clooney was there and they were filming a scene for his movie Up in the Air.

For a good 45 minutes, we got to watch them reshoot this scene where George (who I fell in love with during the movie One Fine Day) cuts in front of a lady in line at the check in desk because he is a member of the premier club and can.  We were very giddy–but quietly giddy because we didn’t want to be kicked out.

I watched Up in the Air when it came out on DVD and the scene we watched for nearly an hour took less than 5 seconds in the movie.  I kept rewinding it thinking– “Is that it?”  Poor actress, you hardly got to see her face and they edited out her one line –which might have been a good thing, since it was only a 2 word line and one of the words started with F.

I watched the commentary and the director mentioned us.  He said, all self important, “That’s right, a few hundred Mary Kay ladies showed up at the hotel for some convention or other while we were filming.  I’ve never seen so many pink velour leisure suits in my life.”   This was a dirty lie.  None of us were wearing velour leisure suits, we were wearing business suits and none of them were pink, although there was many much pink rolly luggage.  Not funny, Mr. Director.  Not funny at all.

Despite having a liar for a director, it was a pretty good movie.

So that was my chance to bask in the glow of Hollywood.  It was brief, but satisfying, and I don’t have to explain to my husband why I kissed James Garner when I was 18.