Category Archives: Celebrity Encounters

“Holy Crap!  Are you kidding me?  I’m sitting next to Bette Midler?” flew out of my mouth as I spontaneously jumped out of my seat. And while I have never actually passed out, this pseudo-hyperventilation must be some indicator of what it feels like.  The flight attendants had just asked me if I would be comfortable sitting next to a celebrity.  I assured them that I had sat with famous (and I use the term loosely) peeps on planes before.  Geraldo Rivera chatted with anyone that would talk to him.  Gwenyth Paltrow and Ben Affleck spent most of the time hiding under a blanket.  Weird.  But my favorite, Madeline Albright, whose feet didn’t quite touch the floor, was adorable.  All of them sweet in their own way, but I wasn’t ready for the Divine Miss M.  They called her a celebrity, not an icon.  Get it straight people.  Deep breaths.  Deep breaths.

She got on the plane early, hopped into her window seat and up went the newspaper.  I have to believe it’s out of sheer necessity, not snobbery that she did this.  She smiled at me as she sat.  I looked her over, head to toe, wanting to take in the moment.  From her white Tumi bag to leopard print scarf, there she was.  It was like the last scene in Beaches had come to life.

As I sat quoting Gypsy in my head, a tour group, who thought that screaming was the most effective form of communication, filed on. She and I took turns rolling our eyes at the noise.  She did because she was annoyed, and I had an excuse to make eye contact. She looked at me and said, “You know, first class is not usually like this.”  Oh my god, Bette Midler just spoke to me! How do you engage a diva in conversation?  There isn’t a social standard for this.  Too much and you sound like a stalker.  But I wasn’t going to let this moment go to waste.

At dinner I finally and nicely struck up a conversation. She had spent most of the flight thumbing through the pages of In Style magazine and tearing out all the ads.  As Virgin served a pathetic excuse for food I asked, “so what takes you to New York?”  “Well, I live in New York, but work in Vegas,” like she sells IT equipment or something.

“I’m familiar with your work.  I’m a big fan.”  But I couldn’t stop talking.  “I have to imagine that you don’t get a lot of personal time, so I won’t bother you.”

“That’s very sweet, I appreciate it, “ she replied.

I had taken a big risk.  Either I had blown my one shot at chatting up Bette Midler, or she’d find me so charming and understanding we’d be engrossed in conversation for hours.  We met in the middle.

About 45 minutes before we landed I was wrapping up an episode of Weeds and she, a Bob Dylan documentary.  She reached over and grabbed my wrist.  “Well, you know what I do.  What do you do?”  I will never wash my wrist again.

“I do product placement for television.”

We had a lengthy discussion about TV and why product placement wasn’t, in fact, the devil she thought it was.  She asked me about upcoming media mergers.  She also told me she’s a huge fan of History and Lifetime.  She watches Ice Road Truckers, Army Wives and Starter Wife.  “Wasn’t Debra so good in that?”  Yes, Debra was great I agreed.  The guy in front of us let out a huge laugh.

“Again, with the noise.  Can you see what he’s watching?  What’s so damn funny?”  It was The Hangover.  “What’d you think of the movie?” she asked.  I thought it was hysterical.  Did you catch the end credits?  “Horrified!  I was horrified.  I almost wrote a letter.  But you probably liked them.  You’re young.”  Bette and I had our first disagreement.

We then started talking about her upcoming gala this weekend.  She does a lot of work building parks in NYC.  I told her about our fights with the local parks departments and how they have no plans to accommodate dogs.  “Well, they have to figure out something.  They just can’t leave you stranded.  You should come to the gala this weekend.  I’m sure someone from the parks department will be there.”  Did I just get an invitation from Bette Midler to her gala?  “Yeah, have your company buy a table.”  Oh.  Got it.

The rest of the flight we discussed celebrities she has worked with, people on the strip, and her opinion on all of them.  Just before we landed she said, “listen, I’ve told you a lot of stuff.  You have to promise me none of the bad crap I said ends up on a blog somewhere.  You’ve got one of those faces you can just talk to.”  I gave her my word, so none of the disparaging stuff is going to make it in here.  “I don’t know you.  But you know me.”  I reached out my hand and said, “I’m Jamie, the guy who lives in Long Island City.”  “Nice to meet you, Jamie from LIC.”

And with that, the flight was over.  The porters meeting her at the gate began gushing and fawning.  And she said nothing.  I realized I had made a wise choice to let her control the conversation.  And with that the woman who sang Wind Beneath My Wings was off.