Quote:
Originally posted by greatwhitenorthchick
Willem Dafoe stood in line behind me on Saturday night. I have several witnesses in case sunny bunny wants to dispute this.
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Hell, that's got me beat. Sigh.
I thought I would have a serious case of name-drop-itis today, what with my buddy scoring floor seats to an honest-to-God NBA game this past weekend, here in the glittering City of Angels.
At first, I had high hopes for the occasion. Adult beverages brought to my chair, a rather close view of scantily clad cheerleaders, and the chance to see (within close proximity, perhaps??) Jack, Sly, Susan, or other potential star-fucking material?
The downside, though, is the fact that I haven't told you yet -- the single difference that makes all the ... uh ... difference. I was at the Staples Center, yes -- but for a
Clippers game.*
Provided that you're not already a devoted fan, you notice that there's something faintly sad about attending a late-season game for a bottom-dwelling pro team, and especially so when the team shares the stadium with a competing team that's actually accomplished something in the last generation.
The beer tastes flatter. The fans look mildly ridiculous wandering around listlessly in team apparel that's so uncommon to show itself in public that here you feel like you've crashed the regular meeting of a sad and unloved cult.
From the crowd's reaction, you realize that the Clippers probably make half of their revenues from ticket sales to fans of visiting teams. Both teams on the floor phone it in until halfway through the 4th quarter, and you think you recognize several of the Clipper Spirit girls from that last trip to Vegas, down to the showgirl perfume and glitter.
Seeing Billy Crystal nearby helps for a moment, but only until you realize that he probably came up with the concept for
Mr. Saturday Night watching these games. Time to hit the parking lot before the trickle of fans begins.
Gattigap
*Whew! Thank God this is an anonymous board!
