Johnny Depp Drinks Coffee and Wants to Hear How I Got To California for Some Reason
So I sat there, drinking a scotch with Johnny Depp discussing the underlying messages in Pirates of the Caribbean on top of some hotel that I’ve never heard of in Hollywood. I don’t remember how I exactly got there, but somehow I did remember to bring a change of clothes in my backpack just in case I was to spend the night in a dumpster. I had no money, nor did I have any concept of time. I lost my phone (which I think I left in the taxi that I took to get from L.A. to Hollywood) and left my watch at home. No one ever gets this lucky the day they move out there.
I was in line to buy some coffee at some extremely expensive Starbucks rip-off, when Mr. Depp himself spilt coffee down my legs as he spun around from the counter. I wasn’t even aware that he drank coffee, or that it was him in line, but somehow we ended up talking about something casual, I forget what about. And from that he invited me to his suite for a few drinks. He said he was having some of his close friends in the area over just to hang out. I figured I’d go because… well, fuck. It’s Johnny Depp. He was a good guy. I guess once he saw that I wasn’t trying to play him like a celebrity, and treated him like some guy who spilt five dollar coffee all over me, he thought I was okay.
Three hours ago I was on a plane from Newark Airport straight through to Los Angeles. I remember sitting in the leather seat trying to watch SportsCenter on ESPN. The Detroit Red Wings had just won the Stanley Cup the night before, but I had fallen asleep before the end of the game so I was trying to catch the clips; while at the same time drowning out the crying babies and tiny barking rats that people like to call dogs and bring them on air planes in suit cases with air holes and mesh cut out so they can breathe as if they were living luggage. Thanks a lot Paris Hilton.
The ticket cost a total damage of four hundred dollars to my wallet because I chose to buy it about an hour before the actual flight. I decided to fly to California because I wanted to get away from New Jersey. I wasn’t sick of it. I wasn’t mad at the state and I wasn’t going out there to become famous. I just wanted to visit California off a limb. I wasn’t exactly sure why but I figured it was basically because I woke up that morning at seven-thirty to a text message from my neighbor telling me that my best friend had died in a car accident the night before.
No comments:
Post a Comment