Non-Adventures With Rock Stars, Part Two

Did I ever tell you about the time I met Dexter Holland from the Offspring and gave him my number in a bar? It was the Met Bar to be exact, which explains why Dexter Holland was there. God knows what I was doing in the Met Bar, but there I was.

Well, all right, I do actually know what I was doing in the Met Bar; I was sort of casually seeing a stockbroker at the time, and the Met Bar was the kind of place stockbrokers hung out, and I was the kind of person who thought I should hang out with stockbrokers. This was in London, but my stockbroker was from New Jersey, and this gave him a kind of special appeal that I can't explain, that I never would have thought existed. New Jersey adding a kind of special appeal to something? Oh, please. But it did.

I was in my second year of college, and this is what I wore to the Met Bar: cheap jeans from Old Navy, cheap brown suede boots I'd bought in my second-to-last year of high school, and a black sweater from Forever 21. I'd come straight from lectures and was dressed for an evening at some divey pub, not an evening at the Met Bar, where my G&T cost about fourteen pounds, and I seem to remember I was---oh god, was I really? Oh yes, I was. I was dancing. My friend Anna was there too---you remember her, she has a baby now---and she was dancing too. The Met Bar was small and dark and kind of a letdown. My entire outfit probably cost the same amount as every other female patron's left shoe. I thought there would be famous people reclining on couches, drinking vodka from the belly buttons of other famous people. But mostly there were just stockbrokers.

And then suddenly, as we were leaving, there was Dexter Holland from the Offspring, propping up the bar with some sort of entourage around him. You remember Dexter Holland, he used to be famous, he used to be sort of someone, although he wasn't someone by the time I met him, which was late 2000, I think, well into The Era Of The Sell-Out for the Offspring, whom I'd hummed along with half-heartedly in the mid-nineties. I said "Hey! Dexter Holland! I saw you at Woodstock!" His face was very pink and his hair was very bleached blond, and I forget what he said, but I'm sure it was something that matched my obvious erudition and wit. The stockbroker was trying to make me leave and I said to Dexter Holland "hey, Dexter Holland! I should interview you for my university TV station."

I SHOULD INTERVIEW YOU FOR MY UNIVERSITY TV STATION. That is what I said. This is what I said to a rock star, albeit a somewhat washed-up one. I SHOULD INTERVIEW YOU FOR MY UNIVERSITY TV STATION, that same TV station, by the way, which is only played in certain parts of the university at certain times of day and is probably viewed by an average of three people during any one sitting. I SHOULD INTERVIEW YOU FOR MY UNIVERSITY TV STATION, DEXTER HOLLAND. Oh, I burn with the shame of a thousand erupting volcanoes when I remember it. I was riding on my high horse just a little, I think, having recently interviewed---by some huge stroke of luck---two members of Canadian band Our Lady Peace at a swanky hotel in Shepherds Bush (a fairly embarrassing experience, now that I look back on it, considering they probably weren't taking it very seriously at all, and I? I was taking it very seriously indeed), and evidently I now considered myself some sort of amateur Lester Bangs, capable of just waltzing up to fairly famous rock stars in the Met Bar and offering to interview them for my university TV station.

And Dexter Holland---who was obviously very drunk---said "yeah, yeah, I guess you should," and I said "well, let me give you my number," and the stockbroker said "come on, we're leaving," and I scribbled my number for Dexter Holland on a Met Bar napkin, and handed it over to him, UTTERLY CONVINCED that he would call. And of course he never called. Which is why University College London's BTV never got to have the pleasure of an interview with one Mr. Dexter Holland, and also why I swore never to drink gin again.

It doesn't compare to my tete-a-tete with Gavin Rossdale, I know, but it's all I got. Embarassingly, though, whenever the Offspring come on the radio---which is sadly seldom, these days---I will usually shout to Sean "hey, it's my friend! Did I ever tell you about---" and Sean says "Dexter Holland in the Met Bar with the stockbroker, yes, you told me." And that's usually the end of that.

Mar 26, 2007

I'm trying to think of any interactions I had with rock stars... I stood next to Elvis Costello when my friend got her picture taken with him... and um? Oh! Frank Black sang a song for me! I thought of something, phew!

Mar 26, 2007

Ahh. Lovely. Reminds me of the time I ran into Parker Posey in a bar. Well, I actually pushed past her bodyguard to say, "Hey! Parker! You know your friend Wayne? Of course you do, he's your friend. AND MINE! Well, anyways, I'm taking care of his dog."

I'm taking care of his dog.

Mar 26, 2007

My friend and I met Neil Young. I hung back while my friend told Mr. Young how much he respected him. Neil was very gracious.

Mar 26, 2007

Um, I know a guy who is brilliant and talented and should be famous but is not and he once sang "1000 Miles" by the Proclaimers (I think it's the Proclaimers? Isn't it?) in his really cool, awesome fashion in front of the Proclaimers and he rocked and then said "Hey, let's sing it the way it was written" and broke into "En EYE wuh wah Fie Hun red mies" while staring directly at the lead singer and totally pissing off the entire band. God, I love him.

Anyway, he should be famous. Oh! And I know Jordis! From Rock Star INXS! Because she sang karaoke in the same bar as me one night. So that counts, right? Right?

Mar 26, 2007

I lovelovelove Seans's response! It sounds like the answer to a particularly modern game of Clue: She was killed by Dexter Holland! In the Met Bar! With a stockbroker! (although it is up to Sean to figure out how a stockbroker could be used as a murder weapon, since I am not feeling that kind of creative as I sit here doing statistics).

Nothing But Bonfires
Mar 26, 2007

Why, a stockbroker could easily be used as a murder weapon if you asked him to tell you about mutual funds and shareholder fees. He would simply bore you to death.

Sarah Marie
Mar 26, 2007

"Oh, I burn with the shame of a thousand erupting volcanoes..."


So Gwen Stefani sang to me once. My college girlfriends and I pushed past throngs of 12 year-olds to get to the front of a No Doubt concert. One tween did faint, but her mom wouldn't let the bodyguards touch her. Alas, no VIP area medical tent for her! I bet she held a grudge against her mom for a good long time.

Mar 27, 2007

Man, I don't have any famous person stories...except for the time I kind of stalked David Byrne...Ok, I just hung out by the stage door after a show at the Warfield, but it was for, like, EVER and there was only a couple of older people out there too and I was, like, 15 or something...lamest famous person story ever, I know. Richard Brautigan checked out my mom's ass! Does that count? Oh, oh, and my husband walked into Tom Waits buying cigarettes once! Does that count?

Mar 27, 2007

I love those sort of random memories where nothing really happened, but it was like "thisclose" to actually happening, so you recall it fondly years later.

Mar 27, 2007

Oh, I walked into the Decemberists' dressing room once! We opened the door, thinking it was a hallway and we could just casually go to the dressing room and knock, but there they all were staring at us. It was very awkward. But the best thing is the next time they played near us they played the song I'd asked them to do just for me, which was very cool and makes up some for the awkward. I've also met and talked to Cat Power a few times (my husband went to a party with her and drank vodka and missed the train back to Connecticut), and M. Ward (he's nice but very shy and hard to understand because he mumbles). I think my husband gave Mr. Ward a selection of paperback novels at a show, too, which might also be weird and awkward, but like I said he's nice and very graciously accepted them. I know there are other bands I've met (all indie folks so it's easier to get in to say "hi") but I can't think of them right now.

Mar 27, 2007

I love your Bush story!! I too was totally in love with Gavin. And I hope Gwen DID see the tush grabbin, serves her right for taking our heart throb.

Mar 27, 2007

Sean's response is the same as my husband's everytime I tell a story that is funny to me. I think that I am being so original and funny and then he shoots be down!

Laughed out loud in my cube at this one!

Mar 27, 2007

Isn't it odd how other people find their own stories of the past so fascinating that they go on about them forever, yet when you try to share yours, they shut you down?

I've found this the case 9 times out of 10, whether it's friends, acquaintances, or family.

And I happen to have led a fairly exciting life.

Most people have never learned the true art of listening. It is a great gift, given by the listener to the teller of the story.

- M

Mar 27, 2007

Once I saw Ethan Hawke walking on the street. There was an empty hole of people opening around him to gape. I walked through the hole and said, "Hey Ethan," like we dated in High School or something. Then I tripped or some sidewalk. I'm awesome.

Daily Tragedies
Mar 27, 2007

I stood in a lobby waiting for an elevator for better than half an hour with Danny Glover. Even better, I had NO IDEA it was him until my friend told me, once we were out of earshot. No wonder he didn't respond to my attempts to make small talk while we waited FOR-E-VER for that damn elevator!

Mar 28, 2007

New Jersey adds a special appeal to EVERYTHING (says this former Jersey girl).

I do not claim to have ever met anyone famous. (I am probably the only person in Southern California who can say that.)

Saucepan Man
Mar 28, 2007

Then there's your mother's dalliances with Roger Daltrey and Jack Bruce on transatlantic flights. Must run in the family...

Mar 29, 2007

I'm a completely heterosexual man but, if the opportunity ever arose, I might grab Gavin Rossdale's ass also.

I did, however, smoke weed with Sting once. I had quit pot at the time but I think there's a general rule that says when a rock legend passes you a joint, you are duly obliged to smoke it.