Hollywood Stories
I have a million of these
A million years ago I had a friend who lived in Hollywood and needed to move out of the area, so I said “Hey move in with me!” because I’m like that.
With the help of my trust Dodge Neon (rip car) I drove from where I lived to West Hollywood over two or three weekends to move her stuff.
One of the weekends we were moving her stuff, we had been drinking dollar store wine and wanted to go out. We were within walking distance to our favorite club, The Rainbow so we put too much make up on and got dressed and went over there even though she was broke as hell.
During this night we were hit on by a guy who said he worked for Three Days Grace and tried to buy us drinks and he didn’t have enough money, some faded rock star from the 80’s who sang a song about a popular type of pie, and then finally this big Samoan dude.
I only mention he was Samoan because he told us about 72 times that he was Samoan and wanted to take us to a party.
We did not want to go to this party, especially after seeing his five friends walk up behind him.
We got up to sneak out. I thought we had ditched him when we slipped through to the sidewalk and that we were just going to walk home and go get tacos after we stopped at the apartment to change our shoes.
We got distracted by all the long tall beauties in their latex and sparkles, the guy in a top hat with a cat on his shoulder, another group of beautiful dark haired emo guys who were probably getting out of a show at the Roxy…
West Hollywood was alive and we were just looking at all of it and here comes the big tough Samoans again. They had decided we were going to this party if we liked it or not and just when I thought “well this is how I die,” this gentleman and his friend walked up to us.
Pause. The friend really did look like a chauffeur. It was entirely possible this man with a pony tail in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a cap who had just jumped out of a sleek black Escalade was someone’s driver. His friend was blonde and just hanging out in a blue t-shirt and some white jeans.
I don’t know what made me do this. I just turned to these two who were either walking up to us or going God knows where else and told this unruly group of men in my strongest voice “Oh my driver and my manager are here now, we have to go, I have somewhere to be.” And we jumped into these total strangers’ car who could have just as easily killed us but…
They didn’t. The blonde was a magician and an actor. The “chauffeur” was a music producer and they also wanted to take us to a party.
When we arrived at the Magic Castle it became clear that the Samoans had followed us and there was almost a fight but Record Producer Guy hightailed it out of there and the Magician and Fake Chauffeur took my friend and I to dinner at this Thai joint that is open till 3am. My roommate pretended to not know how chopsticks worked and the Magician fed her. I got a free dinner and chatted business.
After dinner was over they drove us to my old roommate’s apartment and the Magician gave me his card, which I still have to this day, and both gentlemen gave us a hug and drove off into the night.
A few glasses of dollar store wine later we walked down to Santa Monica Blvd for tacos at 4 am, but darlings that is another story entirely.
(me circa the time this story took place)