As August stood pouring me a drink in his and Jesse's apartment, he turned to ask me how much vodka I wanted to swallow with my diet pop. I told him, "Just let it flow," and he looked at me dubiously. Jesse then turned him and explained, "August, she's from the midwest. She's not one of these crazy LA chicks who doesn't drink." Immediately, I knew I had picked the right kind of party goers. And so, 5 shots and one cab ride later, we arrived at a club called Villa, not really knowing if it was possible to get inside. How does this work? How does one bypass a door man who's looking for names on a list and familiar faces? I have no idea. When I went to school in Ann Arbor, the bars were easy. Flirt with an oversized bouncer, flash your ID and even if there was a huge line, you were more then welcomed past the front door. The thing is... things in LA just don't work that way. And although I'm not sure how exactly they DO work, I'm positive it's not as easy and simple as a smile and a flirtation. Somehow though, we managed to milk the only connection we were aware of (get ready: we knew a girl at work who knew a guy who was promoting for the night who knew the bouncer, who, if we dropped the right name, would let us in) but sadly, all of this nonsense about knowing the right people kind of killed our respective buzzes. And all of this just to find Leo.
Once we were in, we took in Villa for all it was worth--all 20 square feet of it. For a club that generates such buzz around town, it sure was small. This is just proof that size doesn't really matter as much as they say it does in Hollywood ;) But we walked around, studied the unfamous faces insides, bought $12 beers for our buzzes, and parked it on a couch. We took some pictures of ourselves in order to commemorate the fact that we were all finally out in Hollywood, soaking up the sights that we would never have seen if we had stayed in Michigan (or Wisconsin as it is in Jesse and August's cases). But once midnight approached, and Leo was still MIA, we decided to pack it in and head to another oddly named club none of us had ever heard of.
Continuing the search for the famous, we walked what seemed like 800 blocks (really about 3) to Apple, a club that boasted yet another VIP-style "You Have To Be On The List" situation. Well guess what, we weren't on the list and this is how we ended up using that glamorous line, "Hey are you Big D? We know Stephanie..." to which the burly bouncer Big D replied, "Stephanie who?" and then turned away thus ending our entrance options. But Jesse, being the sleuth that he is, somehow snuck into a random line and magically, 5 minutes later, our drunk asses stumbled into Apple, past the list. How can this really be? All this hype about tough doormen, yet we're slipping in and out of entrances like Lindsay Lohan slips in and out of her sexuality.
But to be perfectly honest, this is where the story gets interesting...
Hanging out at Apple was fun, but it really wasn't all I had thought it would be. I was drunk, that was nice, but I had a specific purpose to the evening. I set out to have an adventure--a HOLLYWOOD adventure. Something carved out of my wildest dreams. It was a fat chance, I accepted that, but hey, a kid can dream. That's what H-Wood's all about, right? Admitting the defeat of the evening, I turned to August, who was sitting on a lounge couch in between Jesse and me and said, "You know, I'm over the quest of Leo for the evening. It's never going to happen. But I would totally settle for seeing Emile Hirsch**." He responds, "Oh yeah, Emile is awesome. I'd fucking love to see him."
Right as we're speaking the words, a bouncer comes over to the three of us and asks us to move out of the VIP lounge couches. We stand up like disciplined children and as I'm moving to the side, I turn around and sitting on the other end of the couches is...EMILE HIRSCH!!!
"Umm...August, that's Emile right there."
"No it's not. It just looks like him."
"Emile! Emile!" I shout out over the music and the table that has bottle service and Red Bulls. He looks at me. I yell, "Can I meet you?!?!" And to my utter shock and surprise, this little gift from god walks over to me, offers me his hand and introduces himself. I tell him the thing I've been wanting to tell him for the last 2 years: "I. Love. You." And yet still shocking, he stands there and accepts my praise, smiling and being kind the whole time as I pour out the inter-workings of my heart: "I love you in Into the Wild, I love you in MILK, you're amazing, let's get married." Just kidding, I didn't propose.
We conclude our meeting with a "Nice to meet you" exchange, and then I walk away, looking back a few time to double check and make sure that the vodka I drank earlier didn't just created this scenario out of thin air. But it was verified. It was legit. It was the COOLEST thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. Here's this super hot guy who I watched on T.V. 2 years ago, oogling and drooling over the whole time, and then BOOM, I met him out of the clear blue sky. I can't help thinking of the guy in the movie Pretty Woman who walks across the screen at the end and yells, "Welcome to Hollywood! What's your dream?!"
Adventure accomplished. Tomorrow--I'm aiming high again. We're going out to the swanky clubs, and this time, I want to meet Robert Pattinson. I have an idea of where he might be, but I haven't a clue of how to get into this club. It's a crap shoot, a thread to hang on to, a total and complete hit-or-miss situation... but fuck, it's fun.
**Obviously, seeing Emile is not considered a settle by ANY means, but I was being dramatic. Everyone who knows me knows that Emile Hirsch ranks almost above my parents in my echelon of life loves.
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