Monday, August 9, 2010

Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

I'm through with standing in line
To clubs we'll never get in
It's like the bottom of the ninth
And I'm never gonna win
This life hasn't turned out
Quite the way I want it to be...

Last night was the wrap parties for the film I was working on. The background extras had theirs at Club ampersand. More of a higher class joint that I have been in since arriving in NOLA. People I had spent the past two weeks with running and sweating with were there. This time we were stepping on each other's feet on the dance floor.

Film people work hard. Most folks have no idea the long grueling hours that production people put in. Production assistants, hair and wardrobe, grips, actors and stunt people put in anywhere from 12 to 16 hours a day for months at a time. So when it's done, these artists need to cut loose.

At first I didn't want to go, I had spent almost two weeks with these sweaty muthers in holding. The last idea of fun for me was to be crammed into a club with them. My friend Russell told me how uncommon it is for a background wrap party, and this being one of the largest film productions in New Orleans this year I shouldn't miss it. I'm glad I didn't.

It wasn't the type of club you would usually find me in, but I had fun. Youngsters dancing with glow sticks and illuminated hula hoops, generous friends from the set who were quick to share whatever they had. Drop dead hotties on the dance floor. Good times, my friend Bobby pointed out that there were no fights or skirmishes despite the diverse crowd.

I of course approached all of this with the eye of a journalist to document it for this blog. My night wasn't going to be complete until I made it into the VIP room. We could catch a glimpse of it from the dance floor. A second floor window looked down upon the crowd as the VIP's danced with drinks held high. We got to get up there I told my friend.

And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary and today's who's who
They'll get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer on speed dial, well
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

He walked up to the bouncer guarding the steps like he belonged there and got ushered right in. I was stopped the the Ving Raymes of security. I eventually was allowed in after a handful of people staggered out. The VIP room was kind of boring. I saw a few things of interest, but after you have partied with strippers nothing really surprises you.

I wasn't going to let this opportunity go with out being a drunken asshole of some kind. As I was leaving the VIP area the DJ started to play the Beatle's Twist and Shout. So in a very Ferris Bueller moment I found myself dancing in front of the window looking over the dance floor. A spastic bump in grind with some trashed girl half my age. My friend Adrian looked up from the dance floor to see me removing my ugly shirt to reveal an uglier torso as the night was just kicking into high gear.

The song ended, I miss-buttoned my shirt up and staggered down the steps past Marcellus Wallace who had let me up stairs. I told my buddies that I was ready to go home to blog about my night at my first wrap party. I'm sure the "Inner circle" folks have much more interesting stories than I, but for a 47 year old cab driver from NJ, it was fun.

< (I am still 5 years older than their combined ages.)

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