Born to Serve

I was at this fabulous fundraiser the other night- the décor was over the top, the food was exquisite, and everyone who is anyone in the art world in Boston was there. I met Diane Lane. And she looked fabulous. We had a great conversation. “Salmon Ceviche?” I said, to which she smiled and politely declined. Did I mention I was the caterer?

I’ve been really lucky to land many a job after graduating with honors where these kinds of up-close and personal interactions with celebrities happen quite often. Steven Tyler and Bonnie Raitt performed at an event last year. After he sang (I could give two shits about Bonnie Raitt), I put my tongue back in my mouth and ran to the stage exit (which was adjacent to the catering tent). I was too stunned to actually speak to him because I think he is a god (I’m not worthy), but knowing that this was my one moment with Steven Tyler, I instinctively turned and did a “bend and snap.” Where would I be without my good instincts?

Then there was the two months I worked as a cashier at a certain nameless, upscale pretentious hell hole of a designer department store here in Boston. Carly Simon and I hit it off. “I don’t need a bag,” she said. My girl Kate Hudson (who was in town filming Bride Wars) spent four hours trying on clothes, and as she walked through the lobby without seeing me, I felt that she knew that we'd be best friends if we had the chance. Michelle Williams and the baby came in a mere two months after Heath Ledger tragedy. I told off the paparazzi that were hanging out outside the store, because she had dealt with enough already. And shortly before their engagement, Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johansson came in to do some shopping. Technically I only saw Scarlett’s black AmEx (which I got to run through the credit card machine) and the back of Ryan’s wrist as he spoke to her through the dressing room door- but the back of his wrist was enough to send me.

Speaking of black AmEx’s, have I told you of the time I met Bruce Springsteen? He came up to the counter and was purchasing a few things (I was working at a paper store and he was in town for a sold-out concert at Fenway) and as I swiped his card (there ain’t nothing on this earth {besides the back of Ryan Reynolds’ wrist} sexier than a black American Express), I casually mentioned that I had just bought Born to Run on vinyl. “Oh man,” he said in his gravely voice, “that’s such a good album. I love how it opened like an invitation, like we were inviting you into our sound… into the music....” I don’t remember what else he said, because I was trying not to emit the high-pitched scream that would deafen him (and ruin my rep with The Boss).

And then of course was the time I was a high-end event coordinator in New York City. I had the pleasure of running an event that featured a big band I can’t name from the 70’s who LE FREAKed OUT. “We’re not going on stage until we have 22 white hand towels!” And who can forget the time I mouthed off to whom I later found out was Donald Trump’s son. Whoops! I'm just saying, no one tells me what's what. Especially when I'm that drunk.

Where would these people be without me to feed them and bag their purchases? So go ahead. Be jealous. Who knows who I’ll be offering crab cakes to tomorrow?