So I had the opportunity to meet some of the stars of Downton when they came out to LA for some promotional touring, and I decided I needed to write out the details because when you're in a state of ecstatic elation, these details tend to blur and fade quickly with time.
I sat with friends I had met at the Nonstop premiere, grief-stricken because I had gone to the wrong place, and just minutes after I realized my mistake, one of the girls texted me and informed me that I had missed Michelle. I rushed to the right location in hopes of catching her again. Sitting with the girls, my stomach was tied in knots. I had taken half a day off work. I had driven several miles. I went to the wrong damn place, and I may have missed my only chance to meet my favorite actress and, let’s face it, the object of my affection, my celebrity crush. As we made aimless chatter, a sleek, slim figure appeared, stepping out alone. Not the image you typically expect from an Emmy and Golden Globe nominated star. She was wearing a blue, long-sleeved collared top, skinny jeans, flats, and a small white purse strung across her chest. Her hair was casually cropped around her head, and she had on semi-thick black framed glasses.
“Is that her?” I asked.
The other girls stared at her for a moment, not entirely sure, then agreed it was, though she had changed her outfit from when they had met her earlier. Even her hair was styled differently. She was earnestly staring down at her iPhone and didn’t glance up until she almost collided with a potted plant and artfully dodged the hanging limbs of a small tree.
“Where could she be going?” they wondered aloud, and posited what activities she might be pursuing with only an hour and half before the press conference. I had fought the urge to run after her, knowing that at some point, she would have to return. The girls eventually had to leave and I was left alone.
As I was waiting for Michelle to return from wherever she had gone, I was worried that I wouldn’t have the guts to get up and speak to her. I was worried she would get past me and disappear before I could reach her. I was worried she would think I was some creepy stalker. I was watching the door and suddenly I saw her coming in. She was walking with her publicist for DA, Victoria. I got up and immediately began to approach her. Not wanting to bombard her from the side unexpectedly, I said her name to get her attention first, but being a bit soft spoken when nervous, it came out just a notch above a whisper. Though she didn’t hear me, apparently she saw me out of the corner of her eye and happened to glance up at me over the black frames of her glasses. Realizing I was speaking to her, she stopped, caught somewhat off-guard. I heard Victoria exclaim with a small “Oh!” as she was surprised someone had walked up on them too.
“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re in a rush, but I was hoping I could get a picture with you and maybe an autograph?” I asked meekly.
I sensed I had snapped her out of whatever deep train of thought she may have been in. She took a fraction of a second to register what was going on and then quickly cued in.
“Oh yeah sure!” she replied, taking off her glasses.
I was shaking and fumbled with the big magazine in my hand, the Sharpie, and my cell phone, trying to get the camera set up.
“Sorry.” I murmured a few times, knowing that she was in a hurry and trying to get my wits about me and to control my trembling hands. Victoria stepped up and said “here,” offering to take the picture just as I got situated and put the camera on selfie mode.
“Oh you want to do a selfie?” Michelle asked.
“Yeah sure, I mean, whatever’s easier.” I said.
Michelle leaned in and I clicked the photo, but I could instantly tell that I had been shaking and it was blurry.
“One more? Sorry.” I apologized again, and Michelle leaned in and took another photo. I handed her the magazine and the pen and she asked my name.
“Jae, J-a-e.” I spelled for her. “I am such a big fan of yours; I love all your work.” I blurted out. It was so clichéd and not even remotely reflecting of my status as a true fan, and I prayed I didn’t appear to be a creepy autograph hunter.
Michelle and Victoria gave an “aw," and Michelle said “thank you!”
“I was supposed to be here with these girls but I’m an idiot and I went to the wrong hotel, so I missed you earlier.” I explained, as if she was remotely interested in the series of unfortunate events that have become my day to day life.
“Oh yeah I saw them earlier!” She said. She handed me back my magazine, having written “Jae, Best Wishes, Michelle Dockery.”
“Thank you so much Michelle, I really do appreciate it. Enjoy your evening!”
“Thank you, bye Jae!” She smiled and so did Victoria and they walked away. I was still in a daze. Realizing that if I left for home now, the notorious LA traffic would be horrendous, I opted to stay and see if I could catch a glimpse of the other stars of Downton, as well as Michelle in whatever outfit she would wear to the conference.
I sat with friends I had met at the Nonstop premiere, grief-stricken because I had gone to the wrong place, and just minutes after I realized my mistake, one of the girls texted me and informed me that I had missed Michelle. I rushed to the right location in hopes of catching her again. Sitting with the girls, my stomach was tied in knots. I had taken half a day off work. I had driven several miles. I went to the wrong damn place, and I may have missed my only chance to meet my favorite actress and, let’s face it, the object of my affection, my celebrity crush. As we made aimless chatter, a sleek, slim figure appeared, stepping out alone. Not the image you typically expect from an Emmy and Golden Globe nominated star. She was wearing a blue, long-sleeved collared top, skinny jeans, flats, and a small white purse strung across her chest. Her hair was casually cropped around her head, and she had on semi-thick black framed glasses.
“Is that her?” I asked.
The other girls stared at her for a moment, not entirely sure, then agreed it was, though she had changed her outfit from when they had met her earlier. Even her hair was styled differently. She was earnestly staring down at her iPhone and didn’t glance up until she almost collided with a potted plant and artfully dodged the hanging limbs of a small tree.
“Where could she be going?” they wondered aloud, and posited what activities she might be pursuing with only an hour and half before the press conference. I had fought the urge to run after her, knowing that at some point, she would have to return. The girls eventually had to leave and I was left alone.
As I was waiting for Michelle to return from wherever she had gone, I was worried that I wouldn’t have the guts to get up and speak to her. I was worried she would get past me and disappear before I could reach her. I was worried she would think I was some creepy stalker. I was watching the door and suddenly I saw her coming in. She was walking with her publicist for DA, Victoria. I got up and immediately began to approach her. Not wanting to bombard her from the side unexpectedly, I said her name to get her attention first, but being a bit soft spoken when nervous, it came out just a notch above a whisper. Though she didn’t hear me, apparently she saw me out of the corner of her eye and happened to glance up at me over the black frames of her glasses. Realizing I was speaking to her, she stopped, caught somewhat off-guard. I heard Victoria exclaim with a small “Oh!” as she was surprised someone had walked up on them too.
“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re in a rush, but I was hoping I could get a picture with you and maybe an autograph?” I asked meekly.
I sensed I had snapped her out of whatever deep train of thought she may have been in. She took a fraction of a second to register what was going on and then quickly cued in.
“Oh yeah sure!” she replied, taking off her glasses.
I was shaking and fumbled with the big magazine in my hand, the Sharpie, and my cell phone, trying to get the camera set up.
“Sorry.” I murmured a few times, knowing that she was in a hurry and trying to get my wits about me and to control my trembling hands. Victoria stepped up and said “here,” offering to take the picture just as I got situated and put the camera on selfie mode.
“Oh you want to do a selfie?” Michelle asked.
“Yeah sure, I mean, whatever’s easier.” I said.
Michelle leaned in and I clicked the photo, but I could instantly tell that I had been shaking and it was blurry.
“One more? Sorry.” I apologized again, and Michelle leaned in and took another photo. I handed her the magazine and the pen and she asked my name.
“Jae, J-a-e.” I spelled for her. “I am such a big fan of yours; I love all your work.” I blurted out. It was so clichéd and not even remotely reflecting of my status as a true fan, and I prayed I didn’t appear to be a creepy autograph hunter.
Michelle and Victoria gave an “aw," and Michelle said “thank you!”
“I was supposed to be here with these girls but I’m an idiot and I went to the wrong hotel, so I missed you earlier.” I explained, as if she was remotely interested in the series of unfortunate events that have become my day to day life.
“Oh yeah I saw them earlier!” She said. She handed me back my magazine, having written “Jae, Best Wishes, Michelle Dockery.”
“Thank you so much Michelle, I really do appreciate it. Enjoy your evening!”
“Thank you, bye Jae!” She smiled and so did Victoria and they walked away. I was still in a daze. Realizing that if I left for home now, the notorious LA traffic would be horrendous, I opted to stay and see if I could catch a glimpse of the other stars of Downton, as well as Michelle in whatever outfit she would wear to the conference.
Laura was the
first to exit, but I was texting the girls, giving them an account of my
encounter with Michelle. When I glanced up, I saw the back side of a rather
tall looking woman in a lengthy dress and wavy hair. Could that be her? She
looked incredibly tall, almost too tall to be Laura. I couldn’t tell as she
walked farther away, but suddenly caught a glimpse of her profile and saw it
was in fact, her. I judged the distance as she neared the entrance to the press
room and realized I would have to run to catch her, which might just frighten
her to glance up and see a fan rushing her like a bull elephant. I predicted a
phone call to the police and an unfortunate ending to my day, so I opted to
take the loss and let her go.
Allen emerged
next, and looked dashing and debonair. He was initially surrounded by a group, but as he
broke away only one followed him to the press room. I gathered my nerve and
approached him.
“Allen, sorry to bother you, I know you’re in a rush,” (this would become my coin phrase for the evening), “but would you mind if I got a picture with you?”
“No of course not!” He ran his fingers through his hair and whipped his head a bit to adjust his coif. He apparently put his arm around me, though I was too star struck to notice, and clicked the selfie. Another blur, but I didn’t have the guts to inconvenience him for another.
“Can I also get your autograph?”
“Yeah, yeah!” he took my DA book my dad had bought me and I handed him the pen.
“Are you sure you want it on here?” he gestured to the cover.
“Yeah that’s fine.”
“Will it stick?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“No, let me tell you, I have signed many of these, tons of them, I know this. You don’t want the cover,” he opened the book to the first cover page. “And you don’t want this one,” and flipped to another, “not this one either.” He landed on the title page. “This is the one!”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” I laughed.
“Yeah, this kind of pen won’t stay on the cover.”
He signed and handed the book back to me.
“Thanks Allen, I appreciate it, enjoy your night!”
“Thank you!” and he continued on to the press conference.
“Allen, sorry to bother you, I know you’re in a rush,” (this would become my coin phrase for the evening), “but would you mind if I got a picture with you?”
“No of course not!” He ran his fingers through his hair and whipped his head a bit to adjust his coif. He apparently put his arm around me, though I was too star struck to notice, and clicked the selfie. Another blur, but I didn’t have the guts to inconvenience him for another.
“Can I also get your autograph?”
“Yeah, yeah!” he took my DA book my dad had bought me and I handed him the pen.
“Are you sure you want it on here?” he gestured to the cover.
“Yeah that’s fine.”
“Will it stick?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“No, let me tell you, I have signed many of these, tons of them, I know this. You don’t want the cover,” he opened the book to the first cover page. “And you don’t want this one,” and flipped to another, “not this one either.” He landed on the title page. “This is the one!”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” I laughed.
“Yeah, this kind of pen won’t stay on the cover.”
He signed and handed the book back to me.
“Thanks Allen, I appreciate it, enjoy your night!”
“Thank you!” and he continued on to the press conference.
I saw Joanne
coming from the elevators and watched from a distance for a moment. I kind of
laughed as she did a little shimmy to make the fringe on her dress dance back
and forth. She too was surrounded by people. I had hoped some of them would
break away as they had from Allen, but they stayed with her as she moved toward
the press room, surrounding her like a security team. I approached the group,
spotting a possible publicist giving me the stink eye.
“Joanne?” I asked, but she was telling a story of some sort to another person in her flock. I stayed in step with the group and Madame Stink Eye, hoping to get her attention, and finally Joanne finished her story and glanced at me.
“Joanne, I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re in a rush, but could I please get a picture with you?” I asked.
“Yeah sure!” she said and leaned in for a photo. Blurry again, damn this phone! But she was running for the press conference too and I didn’t want to ask her for another either.
“Could I also get an autograph please?”
“Sure!”
I handed her the DA book, already opened to the page Allen signed, heeding his advice. As she was signing, I felt oddly compelled to self-disclose as I reflected on her performance as a victim of sexual assault from the season.
“I loved your work in this last season. You did an amazing job.”
“Oh thank you!”
“You know, I’m a survivor, and I know that you got a lot of flak for this season, but I really appreciated what you did, it meant a lot to us,” (‘us’ because apparently in the presence of Anna Bates, I presumptuously became the spokesperson for rape survivors everywhere).
“Oh thank you so much.” Joanne had turned to face me and was looking me square in the eye. For a brief moment she seemed completely unconcerned with the waiting press in the next room.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Jae.” I replied.
“Jane,” (yeah, that happens all the time) “thank you so much, it was nice meeting you.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate your time, enjoy your evening.”
Still smiling, she kept her eyes locked on me for a moment longer as the rest of her body turned to walk away; for a minute there I thought I saw her eyes tearing up just a tad. I actually walked away from this encounter feeling a connection to her. This was the magic of Joanne and her personality. I hoped to meet her again someday.
“Joanne?” I asked, but she was telling a story of some sort to another person in her flock. I stayed in step with the group and Madame Stink Eye, hoping to get her attention, and finally Joanne finished her story and glanced at me.
“Joanne, I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re in a rush, but could I please get a picture with you?” I asked.
“Yeah sure!” she said and leaned in for a photo. Blurry again, damn this phone! But she was running for the press conference too and I didn’t want to ask her for another either.
“Could I also get an autograph please?”
“Sure!”
I handed her the DA book, already opened to the page Allen signed, heeding his advice. As she was signing, I felt oddly compelled to self-disclose as I reflected on her performance as a victim of sexual assault from the season.
“I loved your work in this last season. You did an amazing job.”
“Oh thank you!”
“You know, I’m a survivor, and I know that you got a lot of flak for this season, but I really appreciated what you did, it meant a lot to us,” (‘us’ because apparently in the presence of Anna Bates, I presumptuously became the spokesperson for rape survivors everywhere).
“Oh thank you so much.” Joanne had turned to face me and was looking me square in the eye. For a brief moment she seemed completely unconcerned with the waiting press in the next room.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Jae.” I replied.
“Jane,” (yeah, that happens all the time) “thank you so much, it was nice meeting you.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate your time, enjoy your evening.”
Still smiling, she kept her eyes locked on me for a moment longer as the rest of her body turned to walk away; for a minute there I thought I saw her eyes tearing up just a tad. I actually walked away from this encounter feeling a connection to her. This was the magic of Joanne and her personality. I hoped to meet her again someday.
Michelle was the
last to emerge, and I stood, walking slowly to the side of the path she would
have to take to go to the conference room. Only expecting to admire from a
distance, slightly hoping to just catch her eye and smile a goodbye at her
(nope), she looked gorgeous as she floated by and disappeared into the
conference room.
No comments:
Post a Comment