It was OscarMania (tm?) onboard my American Airlines flight to Los Angeles yesterday afternoon.
In First, we had Regis and Joy, Natasha Richardson, Ellen Barkin, and Ted Danson. For anybody not in First, or those who didn't know who was onboard, a very ChitChatty Ponytailed Air Hostess with much "flair" (the TGIFridays kind) basically went seat-to-seat letting all passengers know who was onboard, with a verbal printout of everybody's most up-to-date IMDB profile -- including stuff in development, and what was going on up there. But with Cindy Adams onboard, the ChitChatty lady was hardly necessary.
I wanted to chat up Adams about her boat trip with Judge Judy, Barbara Walters, and Sue Simmons ... or about the alleged abuse and raw condition of Zsa Zsa and Leona Helmsley... but Cindy Adams in person scares the living shit out of me. She was sitting caddycorner to me and I was on gaurd for the entire flight. I even slept alertly. I feel like that lady could blow at any minute. I am certainly fascinated by her hair, though.
On another note, you know how you maybe want to look good at parties and stuff? Well, I have some kind of issue with my eyes that is forcing me to keep them heavily lubricated 24/7 and wear glasses for the next several weeks. So the notion of party-hopping in sunny LA with an eye condition in glasses is like a scene from a bad (not nominated) Woody Allen movie. I'll be all, "Oops, did I get some eye-drops on your gown?? Don't feel bad, I did the SAME THING last night to Salma Hayek. It'll come out, don't freak."
I remember when I was at CBS News and we were doing the entire morning show from the set of "Murphy Brown" (this was the Quayle vs. Murphy era) and I lost a contact lens in the pool of Ma Maison the day before the shoot. I was DERAILED by the notion of being in GLASSES for this VERY SPECIAL shoot. How on EARTH did I get through that shoot?
I am summoning up every piece of strength to get through this weekend in glasses. Every. Piece. Of. Strength. Dear. Lord. As a trial run for what's to come, I grabbed my specs and hit it last night to the Damien Hirst opening at Larry Gagosian's Beverly Hills gallery. Hirst used real butterflies to create an unbelievable series of pieces that are kaliedescopic and vivid. They sold out for over a million dollars each, if you are wondering.
The crowd was a mix of LA artys wearing bow ties and too-short pants, 60 year olds in kangol hats and belly shirts, and several ladies in too-short cocktailwear with facelifts that made them look like Shirley MacLaine and wigs that made them look like Cindy Adams. (I don't mean to imply that Shirley looks lifted -- these women looked like Shirl would if she was superlifted. Discuss.)
There was a dinner at Mr. Chow featuring Steve Martin, Gina Gershon, Courtney Love, Lauren Hutton, Cindy Williams, and Linda Evangalista -- who was seated next to my friend and I at dinner. I am, naturally, kidding about Cindy Williams being there; it wouldn't have taken me 18 paragraphs to get to that tidbit. We were actually quite excited to see Mr. Chow himself, until Naomi Campbell walked up to our table to kiss the ring of La Evangelista. It was v v v hot and exciting. Naomi was with Terrence Howard, who was wearing a white sportcoat. The glasses, I don't know. They held up and stayed on my face and I can kind of see in them, but I just didn't really feel like me. I think Linda would've liked me more in contacts. We'll see how it goes this weekend.