Party Crasher

So, ok….I have already shared my secret self on my other blog, so I will tell you one of my favorite stories.

It must have been seventeen years ago on the Fourth of July, I was with my friend…hmm… Carrie, we’ll call her, her boyfriend…..hmm…we’ll call him Larry and five of his friends. We all went to eat at a seafood restaurant in Malibu. Two of Larry’s friends were twin actors…hmm..let’s call them Bob and Rob, said they knew a couple of parties we could check out.

Once we were finished eating we got in our cars, we were in two separate cars, headed to a party in Santa Monica, or south on Pacific Coast Highway. Larry was driving with Carrie and myself, as we got a couple miles down the road, his friends called and said they had a better idea, let’s go to Danny Devito’s Annual Fourth of July Party. Well that sounded fantastic. The twins said he had a big fireworks display on a barge out in the water and food and booze. So I asked Larry, “Are we invited?”  Larry was a professional procurer of the best tickets for all events intown, so he knew a thing or two about getting in places. He said “No, but we’ll figure it out.” Bob or Rob, I really could tell them apart told Larry, still on the phone that their was a list and the shuttle pick up was at the Albertsons parking lot and that we had to think who might be on the list.

The movie poster is a big clue. The writer smiles. I said, “Well Danny DeVito just produced Pulp Fiction, so lets say we are guest of Quentin Tarantino.” I was very apprehensive of this party crashing notion, I mean how the hell were we going to pull this off. How embarrassing if we were discovered. We get to the parking lot where we saw the shuttles and people with head sets and clip boards. I am like “Oh shit, oh my god!”

Larry used to the crashing activity approached a girl with a clipboard and said ” Quentin said we would be on the guest list.” She looks on the list for a couple of minutes and says “Yes it says Quentin plus eight.” The girl looks up and ask “He is not with you,” and Larry says ” No, he said he would just meet us there” or something like that, it was seventeen years ago. She says “OK let me check with them, it will be just a minute.” This total thing was a crazy crap shoot and now she is having the other end of the head set checking the party, looking for Tarantino. (lol)

They can’t find him at the party and the girl doesn’t know what to do us. We held our ground. About this time a limo pulls up and I hear the girl say to someone, “Al’s here.” Well (big chuckle) Al Pacino had just pulled up and all the little wannabe important head set people, were thrown in a tail spin. Ms. Head Set, we’ll call her says to the other end, “Al is here and I am just going to put Quentin’s guest on the shuttle.” we all loaded in the van and headed to the party. DeVito lived on the beach just down the road. We agreed that when the van pulled up we would scatter in pairs, which is what we did. So the Head Setter’s never got to check us.

It was a great party on the beach, he had two houses side by side and there were hundreds of people there. There were families, show biz folk and celebrities. They had hot dog carts, ice cream carts and keg beer. The thing is I was so paranoid that I was afraid to talk to anybody for fear of them asking me who I knew there. (lol) So I just hung out with …hmm..Carrie and celebrity spotted.

The fireworks out on the ocean were awesome and beautiful. So if (and I doubt it) Danny DeVito ever reads this…I had fun at your party, sorry we crashed. But the real funny kicker is Al Pacino saved our butt. Oh and Quentin thanks for having us as your guest.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s