Among the Stars

Last night I attended a party for Interview Magazine in hopes of speaking with their managing editor. Glenn's an old timer like myself. I once threw him out of a nightclub. The soiree was held in an unfinished hotel. Very unfinished. The crowd before the entrance of the construction site was 10 deep. I excused myself through the expectant enterees and said I was on the list as a guest of Adrian Dannett, my obiturarist.

"And who are you?" The black-clad press secretary checked the list.

"I'm not on the list. I just got out of jail in Thailand." I didn't mentioned my penal stint had lasted 3 hours in the Cyber-Crime ACed offices.

"Oh." She was about to tell the security to move me away from the ropes, when Adrian showed up at my back.

"He's with me." Adrian held his hand out to indicate I was his guest. I thanked the woman and floated through a crowd aglow with the first big event of the fall season. Faces, bodies, photographers. I knew no one and even better no one knew me.

My friend Adrian and I whisked up to the top floor for sushi, champagne, and conversation. The DJ was playing crap music. Strobes blinded me on two occasions as I inadvertently stood behind someone famous to the party-goers. Adrian introduced several artists from the 70s. We spoke of the dead and living. I lasted an hour before feeling the call of my pumpkin truck. I shared the service elevator down with a beautiful blonde in jeans. She was in a claustrophobic panic.

"I hate elevators."

"They were very terrifying in TOWERING INFERNO." I had sat in the second row of the Ziegfield Theater for that film.

"I hate that film." she rushed into the corner, face buried in the padding. On the ground floor she regained her composure. I held the door open with my hand. As Adrian said, "That's Stephanie Seymour."

"Who?" The name meant something.

"The Victoria Secrets model." Adrian rolled his eyes at my ignorance. Five years out of the country does wonders to your celebrity antennae. "Her boyfriend is building the hotel."

"Fabulous." It sounded like the right thing to say. I ordered water from the bar and then took the subway to Brooklyn. No top models on my arm. No limo. No penthouse. Just the A train heading to Lafayette Street.