Last night, here in Atlanta, there was a "premiere" of The L word, for its third season. It was held at a club not far from my condo so I hiked over there; (I do not drink and drive!) just in time to stand in line for about 15 minutes as the winter wind blew and made ice cubes outta my earlobes.
Why'd I have to wait?
The club was packed to capacity. They'd have been violating fire codes to let more people in. The max for that club? 750. The event was scheduled for 7:00 pm, the doors opened at 6:00 and by 7:15, they were full up. Completely full up. They weren't letting anyone in unless someone left.
I ONLY had to wait for 15 minutes because friends of mine were the next in line to get into the place and I "cut". Yeah, I cut. No, I don't feel bad about it. Sue me. WE
only got in because a group of girls had to leave when their designated dupe (err.. driver) couldn't get into the place. Tough luck girls, them's the breaks!
So, Pam Grier was scheduled to appear, and appear she did.
I didn't meet her.
I meet someone MORE important. The creator and showrunner, Ilene Chaiken.
I was standing there watching the show and glanced over my right shoulder to find Ms. Chaiken standing there, all by her little lonesome. No bodyguard, no bouncer, no Pam Grier, just her and her drink. (She's a small thing, couldn't be more than 5'1 in her stocking feet and if she's 110, soaking wet, then I'm not a lesbian.) So, I took one step, leaned in and said...
"Thanks for creating the show. I've enjoyed it. I've read your script for Barbarella and I like your writing style."
She murmured a polite thank you.
ME: "How do you like Atlanta?"
HER: "Great city. Great turnout."
ME: "You have no idea. Not only is it packed in here, there's a line from the front door, around the corner of the building and almost all the way to the end of the street."
HER: (Big grin) "Really?"
ME: (Grinning back) "Yep."
I introduced myself, we shook hands and then, we stood there in companionable silence watching the show as the crowd swirled around us. Most of the women... completely oblivious to the fact that none of them would be there without the efforts of the tiny woman to my right.
The only other thing I said to her, after watching Alice do something pathetic...
Me: "Poor Alice."
HER: "Yeah, poor Alice."
She stood there a little while longer, holding her cocktail and watching the show, until she turned and disappeared into the darkness of the club.
It wasn't until this morning that I realized that I had completely bungled my "I like your writing style" compliment to her... she didn't write "Barbarella", she wrote "Barbed Wire"! She's too young to have written Barbarella! I hope that in the din of the club, she heard
"Barbed Wire". If not, my chances of ever writing for her just went down the crapper.
I have a friend who insists that I should have told her that I was a screenwriter and asked her some questions about how to break in, etc... I'm not sure that would have been the right thing to do. See, it was her night and I think it would have been rude of me to demand that she cater to my questions.
What do you guys think?