Saturday, March 29, 2008

Don't forget to remember me, Eric Alterman.

My day had been filled with emotionally heavy and important interactions. By 5 pm I was beat. I wanted to crawl into bed and not ever come out. In the interest of not sharing any of this with anyone I kept my engagements. Also, there was the whole being in the same building as Eric Alterman business that HAD to happen.

Went to sound check at 6...well, 6:10. I had become a little lost for a little while. We were done by 6:30. I had an hour to fill. Already knowing how I was going to fill it. I wandered the halls. All of them. Repeatedly. I would run into Eric Alterman, damn it. I wore a bright, and we are talking bright, yellow jacket. So I would be more memorable. Is it wrong that my reference for this was Shindler's list? Whatever. I said earlier that I wandered the halls, well, to be more accurate I'll say that I aggressively searched the halls. My walk was dripping with desperation. Keenly searching every face I walked near. As time was cutting short I wondered if maybe he shaved off his goatee. Shit. Now I had to re-scan all those faces I thought I had cleared! It was getting near the time I knew he was going to be speaking so I was losing a little hope with every hurried step. Then, I saw him. I hesitate to say that he was glowing, but he was kind of glowing. He was standing directly under a flood light which was definitely giving that appearance. Glowing, I tell you. He was writing on a piece of paper, using his right hand as a makeshift table. Eric Alterman is left handed, hot. With each step nearer I climbed a latter of realization that I didn't know what I was going to say when I finally got to him. I always do this! My mind was too busy screaming at myself to work on actually forming a coherent sentence to offer this man. Well, here I was. I stood, brightly, before him.
"Mr. Alterman?" I manage. He glances up from the paper. I notice that his hand hand writing doesn't possess the untidiness that seems to plague most left hands. Hot, again.
"Yes, Hello." he says.
"Hi. I'm Bree." Every syllable sounds so harsh. I offer my hand and he shakes it.
He looks me in the eyes and says "You obviously know my name so I am quelling the urge to tell it to you out of habit." That sentence deposits me securely into fan girldom. My mind is now just filled with excited pre-pubescent screaming. Here I go.
"Well, sir, I pretend to be really uninterested in all the political happenings on as of late. Obama, Hillary, whoever. That it's of not much consequence, but to be honest I still read a handful of political blogs and watch C Span in the middle of the night when no one is looking." A pause that was about 3 beats too long. "A lot. One of the blogs I read is yours. It is lacking a bit in historical reference here and there, but overall very well put together. I quit talking about politics because it became so inane and empty. It's hard to find anyone who knows what they are talking about. About a month ago or so I was in a bar by my house with these three guys," The inflections were murder. Do I always sound like this? God. "We fell into a political conversation which instantly made me nervous, since, you know, I had quit that like a bad habit. Two of them were really great and adroit and pleasant and the conversation progressed nicely. The third one, whoa. He was this self important douche bag. Poster boy for it. He yelled over everyone and cut me off at every turn. I was reminded why I had quit." Why was I still talking? He's the one I wanted to hear talk! "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I appreciate you still doing it. I'm sure you are faced with way more douche bags. Even douche bags that are smarter than you." Did I really just say douche bag that many times to Eric Alterman? "Which is the toughest kind. But it's a competition of ideas and not intellect and I think that gets lost..." I just stopped. I knew I had been talking WAY too long and WAY too much. I just looked at him now. Wall eyed as a retard.
"Wow," you know it's bad when someone starts of with wow. They are just buying time to let you down gently. "I don't know much else to say," See? "That is really flattering. I hope you aren't discouraged forever. You seem to have a really good head in this. Well, I should be going. I'll see you in there?" His inflection almost sounded Hopeful!
"Oh, yeah, of course. Yeah. Bye," He turned and walked away. My eyes still wider than they were used to. I didn't tell him that I wasn't going to be able to go. Now I regretted the yellow jacket.

2 comments:

Snotty McSnotterson said...

You are a smooth operator. Of, like, machines and stuff--not MEN. :)

Amy said...

I've had a crush on Eric Alterman for a couple of years. There have been times he's been the only honest voice in the whole pack of media pundits. What a guy! Intellectual honesty is HOT. I'm tickled to see I'm not the only one who feels that way. This is hilarious.