I had, but I always tell them about the day I didn’t meet George Clooney. He’s much bigger than the celebs I knew. This is my true Hollywood story.
My friend Sandy fled a dreary Pittsburgh February and came to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, we were having dreary weather in Hollywood as well. It poured down rain during most of her visit. It was unusual for Southern California, though.
Sandy came almost every year, and on every trip I became Ethel to her Lucy as we went out hunting movie stars.
I took her out to breakfast at Hugo’s in West Hollywood. Hugo’s was frequented by famous people, but the menu prices were reasonable and the food was yummy. She read the Adam Sandler often trekked to Hugo’s for pumpkin pancakes. I wouldn’t try them, but I’m not a pancake connoisseur (the thing I always ordered there sounds equally disgusting: an omelet with spinach and goat cheese, topped with balsamic vinegar and crushed walnuts. It’s actually delicious).
We entered the restaurant right at the breakfast rush. George Clooney (“Facts of Life,” “E.R.” and some movies) and Richard Kind (“Mad About You,” “Spin City”) entered right after us. Kind bitched, “It’s crowded.” Clooney smiled, “It’s worth the wait.” Clooney was kind; Kind was not.
I feel obligated to mention, both stars had tousled hair and baggy sweats on. They probably came from the gym or just rolled out of their respective beds.
I was angry with the star system at the time. I assumed that Clooney and Kind would get preferential treatment. I had been to other restaurants in the city where the stars got the star treatment. I didn’t like being reminded that I wasn’t even on the D-list. I was an F minus.
I took matters into my own hands and approached the podium. Kind was moving in on the maitre d'. Meanwhile, Clooney engaged Sandy in small talk.
As I previously mentioned, it was pouring down raining in WeHo that day. Clooney turned to Sandy and said, “Terrible weather we’re having.” She nervously responded with, “I’m not from here. I’m from Pittsburgh.” It was more like a high-pitched squeal than a verbal response. He smiled and shot back with, “I guess you’re used to it, then.” Yes, even George Clooney knows about the weather in Pittsburgh.
At that time the maitre d' told me our table was ready. I grabbed Sandy, unaware she was yukking it up with the star of Ocean’s Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen. I had a triumphant feeling; we were sitting down before the celebrities. As we walked to the table, she said, through gritted teeth, “You are taking me away from a conversation with George Clooney.” She was angry up until the time her pumpkin pancakes arrived.
Everyone I tell this story to responds with, “I’d be pissed at you, too!”
So, Sandy wasn’t hanging with Mr. Clooney. We did have a nice breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day, you know.