Blind Item #8 - Reader Blind

It was a Tuesday in November 1999, and 2 girlfriends and I decided after dinner that we’d check out famous London nightclub, which was just around the corner of the restaurant. We had just had dinner sitting next to this former married couple consisting of two singers from to countries, one of whom has had a long lasting career and some other people who were talking loudly about going there afterwards. Tuesdays weren’t really famous London nightclub nights, but then we saw dozens of photographers, big Bentleys and stretch limos while we walked by, so we decided to see what was going on. The bouncer, who knew us, smiled at us and said ‘sorry girls, not tonight, it’s a private party’, and turned to some insanely dressed-up guests, checking his list.

We weren’t going to let that stop us so we walked to the corner to have a mini meeting, away from watchful eyes, and hatch a plan on how to crash this probably awesome party.

We knew that famous London nightclub was connected through an underground corridor to the tacky tourist bar on the corner, the corridor led people outside, in case of a fire or other emergencies.
The door that connected the corridor to the famous London nightclub, opened straight into the VIP section (because VIPs shouldn’t burn to death, like the non VIPs) but usually that door was guarded by a bouncer. We decided we’d try anyway, walked into the tacky bar, straight through a door that said ‘no entry, staff only’, down the stairs, running along the corridor, and there was the door. No bouncer. We opened the door and quickly fanned out, like planned, into 3 different directions. We could have not bothered since there was no bouncer on the inside either.

After a few minutes, adrenaline pumping, we found each other again, delirious and excited. It was (permanent A+ list singer’s) party! She was sitting at the most centrally located, most visible table in the club, wearing a black tank top, showing off her muscular arms, and was the only woman at her table. Everyone else were older men in suits. They did not look very ‘clubby’. We also saw why we lucked out with the no-bouncer situation: Neatly arranged like toy soldiers, standing around her table, were 5 or 6 bouncers, wearing sunglasses and earpieces and looking like Men in Black. Ok.

We needed some drinks in us stat, so headed to the bar, where (foreign born A/A- list mostly movie actor) was buying. He saw us trying pathetically to get the attention of the barman, gave us one of his movie star smiles and screamed ‘you girls like absinthe?’ So we all had 2 shots of absinthe each with him and a horde of other moochers, then continued our squeeze through the packed club.
When we got to the Moroccan room - where you lounged on giant pillows, while listening to loud middle eastern beats - we saw (permanent A list mostly movie actress who is an Academy Award winner/nominee but doesn't act much any longer) holding court on several piled-up pillows, surrounded by minions who were laughing and clapping like trained seals. That room is kinda small and stuffy, but she made damn sure she stood out: arms flailing, hair flying, everybody had to look at her.

We decided to head back to the VIP, but on the way we stopped at the ladies’ room, where (foreign born permanent A list model), was chain smoking in a corner with (an ex of the actor mentioned above). There was a long queue and 3 of us, so it took us a good 15-20 minutes to do our business, and I think the model did not stop smoking that entire time.

Back in the VIP, we decided we had had enough excitement, so we entered one of the VIP ‘cabins’. The VIP had a section of 2 circular cabin-like structures, where you lounged on large comfortable round benches and a door that you could close for privacy. The walls of these cabins where made of carved wooden panels, with mosaic holes, so you could still get all the atmosphere from the club.

We timidly opened one door, peaked inside and asked whether there was room, and (foreign born one named singer who is basically living off one monster album) yelled ‘come in girls, there’s always room’. He offered us coke which we politely declined, and drinks which we gratefully accepted. Sensing that we weren’t some desperate coke whores, he left after 3 minutes, but not before proudly declaring that we were free to finish his champagne. So there we were, just the 3 of us.
Just when we decided that we could not sit in there any longer, like 3 losers, no matter how much damage the absinthe had done to our cognitive skills, the door opened and in fall (former A list singer turned tabloid fodder turned frequent reality judge and former A- list mostly movie actress turned oft failed television actress all of you know) with 2 other people. They graciously introduced themselves, and small talked with us for a while while the former singer and one of his friends skillfully rolled some joints. Then we all smoked and laughed and chatted, until the actress announced she had to vomit. Fortunately she made it out and we did not see her again. Nobody seemed to care, or maybe they were just too stoned.

I went back to the bathroom by myself and stood in line behind (former A list singer/possible murder suspect) - no pun intended. (The model) was still standing in a corner smoking, this time with (permanent A list model who always is mysteriously injured with any boyfriend she dates).
(That permanent A+ list singer from above) was still sitting in her spot, surrounded by the lawyer-looking men, and the dance floor now belonged to some other goddesses I did not recognize, Barely standing up, not far from them, was foreign born former A lister in a band that sadly doesn't exist any longer, looking absolutely miserable, lighting a cigarette with the butt of the last cigarette he had just finished smoking.

I went back to the VIP ‘cabin’, smoked another joint with (the former singer turned reality judge), while my friend was asking about him after parties. We did go to an after party with him that night, but that’s another story.