Paris Hilton, the Wu-Tang Clan, and Me

The funny thing about telling people you live in LA is that everyone invariably asks, “how many famous people have you seen?” as if every time you take your blind overweight dog outside to drain the dragon you get to say “whaddup?” to Maaaaaaaaatt Daaaaaaaaaamon (think Team America here). The ironic thing about this question is that everyone from LA ALWAYS has an answer. I guess it makes sense why they ask. For months I had been relegated to telling people that I whizzed by Aziz Ansari while driving back from a particularly hung-over breakfast in east Hollywood. Most of the time I get an, “oh… that’s cool…” or a “who’s Aziz Ansari?”

So that’s where I was, sitting at the bottom of the star sighting food chain subsequently feeling depressed about calling myself an Angelino, until this week when Paris Hilton and the Wu-Tang Clan fell right into my cozy, Santa-like lap.

The best part of this story isn’t even about Paris, in fact none of it really is. The real story is about my ridiculous trip to Atlanta that included Tachoes (tater-tot nachos), fancy Irish bars (oxymoron?), getting stranded in a log cabin, a hockey game, the world’s biggest aquarium, and a group of hilarious gay dudes that coined me as an 18 year old version of Justin Beiber (I am 23… but I’ll take the compliment), but that will have to wait.

As I arrived at LAX I was feeling rather hung-over as is usually the case on Sunday afternoons. Tito’s Tacos were attacking my intestinal region as if they were convinced they could be seen on the full-body scanner if they tried hard enough so all I was able to focus on was the airport bar and the bathroom right next to it. I showed my id and ticket to the first round of TSA at the bottom of the escalator and proceeded to take a very uncomfortable escalator ride to the line for security. When I peaked the top of the marble covered floor I noticed a woman, a rather attractive brunette, who had splayed the contents of her purse all over the floor in front of me. Since there was no one else in line I walked up and waited.

At first I had no idea what she was doing but I slowly realized that in-between showing her ID at the bottom of the escalator and riding said escalator to the top she had somehow lost the ID that she JUST showed to the original TSA agent. I found great pleasure in this and repeatedly dodged her efforts to apologize and get me to pass her in line. I would have probably helped more had it not been for the surely man standing watch over her (who I mistakenly tagged as TSA at the time) and the feeling that if I bent over Tito’s Tacos may have made a guest appearance in a very unforgiving venue. I couldn’t help but stop and think, “would shitting all over security qualify me as a terrorist?” I decided the risk was not worth the reward.

As I watched the beautiful brunette struggle far too hard for such a simple task I noticed a blond walking from security towards us. She asked something along the lines of, “Are you ok? Do you need help?” to which the brunette replied, “no it’s ok, go ahead.” It was then that the TSA checking IDs said, “hmm, Freddy Prince Jr. and Paris Hilton, must be my lucky day” to which I replied, “wow if that’s your lucky day you must be in one hell of a rut!” Ok I didn’t really say that but I’m not sure seeing either of them is really anything to brag about (and by saying that I defeat the whole purpose of this post but oh well). Anyways, Paris retreated and I watched the Brunette’s eyes open up like they did on Christmas Eve when she was 13. “Oh!” she said. “I know where it is, it’s in my pocket!” I pretty much died right there of laughter and as she looked at me, semi-embarrassed, I said; “don’t forget that your sunglasses are on top of your head.” In hindsight this sounds like a kind of dick thing to say but she smiled, thanked me and laughed. I would have tried to continue the conversation but she quickly skirted the security line to catch up with Paris, her bodyguard (the guy I thought was TSA), and what I could only assume was either her mother or her publicist.

Trivia Question: Does Paris Hilton look this good in real life?

The short story, just in case you didn’t want to read those big paragraphs: I ran into Paris Hilton and semi-successfully flirted with her friend. Go me.

The Wu-Tang event was a little less glamorous. I stayed at “the W” in Atlanta with all the other trainees and we often noticed the pungent smell of marijuana and random ghetto-ish patrons around the hotel. It wasn’t until the end of the week that we realized that Wu-Tang Clan had a tour stop in Atlanta and were rooming with us for the week. Sure enough, Friday morning we checked out right as Wu Tang were walking out the door! A few of the trainees stayed and talked to their opening act and some guy who did a documentary on ODB (I assume if you know who Wu Tang is you know ODB and vice versa) while I ran off to get a cup of coffee to cure my never-ending hangover.


Moral of the story: I was able to triumphantly return to LA, no longer at the bottom of the star sight-seeing food chain having seen Paris Hilton and the Wu Tang Clan in one week. Happy times (aka drinks) all around.

15 Responses to “Paris Hilton, the Wu-Tang Clan, and Me”
  1. tsonoda148 says:

    Funny post. Please write another post when you see Angelina Jolie. She’s the stuff TSA dreams are made of.

    Happy Christmas Kluck!


  2. Bronan! says:

    You can always spot TSA by observing if the guy is grabbing some other guy’s dick. If the answer is yes, you’re dealing with a TSA agent or you’re in a gay bar.

  3. Bronan! says:

    PS – I dig the new site design.

  4. Grey Goose, Dirty says:

    (like the new layout Kluck) Yey you! Thank god you didn’t embarass yourself by whipping out your Power Rangers autograph book, huh? 😉 Glad you are now amongst the star-sighters and can hold your head up high!

    BTW, you do seem to have somewhat of a delicate stomach to be embarking on all these uh, interesting food quests, ya’ know ……

  5. I think Aziz is on Parks & Rec…I think. I don’t care enough to google that shit though.

    Also, you got me all excited for a sec that YOU had seen Freddy Prinze Jr., and then I was going to ask if you saw his wife Sarah Michelle Gellar because if you had, you could say not only have you seen stars, but you’ve seen a real life vampire slayer. But then I read again and you didn’t see them. So – no vampire slayer for you. I know, you’re very disappointed.

  6. Moe says:

    Kripes, we were there (LA) for 5 days and saw Jessica Alba. (at security:~) Sounds like yet another successful trip i.e. no barfing.

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