Wednesday, June 29, 2005
The Private Dick
The car in this story isn't truly exotic, and the "star" is hardly a household name, but the spectacle was perfect Hollywood. Perfect PaCarazzi!
One weeknight last year, my girlfriend and I were standing outside Spaceland, that hipster haven in L.A.'s inverse-chic Silver Lake area. Land of millionaires in ripped jeans and secondhand shirts. Fake secondhand shirts. Whatever. The AC was set to "Arctic Winter" inside, so we'd gone out to thaw. There we were, chumming it up with the tattooed, mohawked doorman, when a Humvee lumbered to the curb just up the street. Then it lumbered backward. Then forward. Backward. Pause. Forward again. Back. Someone unconcerned about global warming was unable to park.
Finally, the behemoth jerked away from the curb and headed toward us, coming to rest in the loading zone just a few feet from where we stood. Its doors opened and out spilled Andy Dick and three tiny perfect people of indeterminate sexuality. Squabbling ensued. The driver looked about 15. He was artfully mussed, but inartfully frazzled. Driving a Humvee badly with a screaming celebrity backseat driver is no picnic ... especially when you can't really reach the pedals or see over the steering wheel.
The other two members of the Dick party were a beautiful girl and a beautiful boy, dressed indentically in head-to-toe denim and unable to keep their hands off each other. They stared blankly while Dick and the driver carried on sniping. As the heavy drama unfolded, our doorman friend provided well-informed sotto voce commentary. Eventually, the driver and his tantrum returned to the car and drove off to try to park, and Dick, trailed by the denim kids, approached the entrance for their free admission. The doorman smiled and in they all went. Several minutes later, the little driver showed up and followed them in, heavy of breath and moist of forehead.
That's the story. It was a memorable little episode.
Note: Some years ago, I saw Andy Dick perform his solo show at the Key Club (formerly Billboard Live, formerly Gazarri's) on the Sunset Strip in Hollywood. He was inspired, bitchy, and hilarious, and I laughed a lot. If you don't know who he is, I think he came to fame, as they say, on TV's "Newsradio."
**** ¶ 12:44 PM
One weeknight last year, my girlfriend and I were standing outside Spaceland, that hipster haven in L.A.'s inverse-chic Silver Lake area. Land of millionaires in ripped jeans and secondhand shirts. Fake secondhand shirts. Whatever. The AC was set to "Arctic Winter" inside, so we'd gone out to thaw. There we were, chumming it up with the tattooed, mohawked doorman, when a Humvee lumbered to the curb just up the street. Then it lumbered backward. Then forward. Backward. Pause. Forward again. Back. Someone unconcerned about global warming was unable to park.
Finally, the behemoth jerked away from the curb and headed toward us, coming to rest in the loading zone just a few feet from where we stood. Its doors opened and out spilled Andy Dick and three tiny perfect people of indeterminate sexuality. Squabbling ensued. The driver looked about 15. He was artfully mussed, but inartfully frazzled. Driving a Humvee badly with a screaming celebrity backseat driver is no picnic ... especially when you can't really reach the pedals or see over the steering wheel.
The other two members of the Dick party were a beautiful girl and a beautiful boy, dressed indentically in head-to-toe denim and unable to keep their hands off each other. They stared blankly while Dick and the driver carried on sniping. As the heavy drama unfolded, our doorman friend provided well-informed sotto voce commentary. Eventually, the driver and his tantrum returned to the car and drove off to try to park, and Dick, trailed by the denim kids, approached the entrance for their free admission. The doorman smiled and in they all went. Several minutes later, the little driver showed up and followed them in, heavy of breath and moist of forehead.
That's the story. It was a memorable little episode.
Note: Some years ago, I saw Andy Dick perform his solo show at the Key Club (formerly Billboard Live, formerly Gazarri's) on the Sunset Strip in Hollywood. He was inspired, bitchy, and hilarious, and I laughed a lot. If you don't know who he is, I think he came to fame, as they say, on TV's "Newsradio."
**** ¶ 12:44 PM
