After blogging, tweeting, and making videos about Oscar winners The Hurt Locker for Best Picture and Katheryn Bigelow for Best Director, at the Night of 100 Stars Oscar Party, and closing down the media section, being almost the last person to leave, relaxation was in order. The Beverly Hills Hotel's Polo Lounge was the destination.
The famous Polo Lounge is described by the hotel as "favorite breakfast spot and watering hole for generations of stars and Hollywood deal-makers" and it does live up to that claim. Before the Night of 100 Stars Oscar Party started, I made a bee line for The Polo Lounge for lunch.
Just about five minutes after I was seated at a prime table for seeing people or just being left alone, I saw a great pair of athletic female legs in a killer backless black dress walk elegantly but briskly by me, followed by a man in a dark grey suit with an upright walk and very tightly combed and moused hair. The man turned out to be the legendary actor and author George Hamilton, who I'm told is a regular at The Polo Lounge.
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| George Hamilton |
Then Hamilton and his lovely, leggy blonde female companion were seated at a round booth already occupied by a man who looked very much like Stephen Fry, who was also with a female companion. I'd never seen Fry in person before. It just so happens that Fry and I follow each other on Twitter, so I messaged him to confirm this. An update soon, assuming he answers back.
Just five minutes after that small celebrity event, and the arrival of my Ahi Tuna appetizer, I overheard someone behind me talking about what food orders their friends wanted. The voice was so close I had to turn my head to see who it was. It's was a casually dressed Byron Allen.
Byron Allen is best known as a television talk show host who most recently had a show I remember called The American Athlete but I don't know what he's up to now. To find out for this blog post, I did some quick internet poking about and learned he's head of a very interesting new media company called Entertainment Studios. The company produces shows like Comics Unleashed With Byron Allen. From what I've read Allen's fought to build an entertainment business on his own terms; it seems like he's finally found something that works for him.
There may have been other celebrities in my vision that I didn't know, but frankly I was starving and only had so much time before I had to get ready for the event. The food at The Polo Lounge is decent; nothing to really rave about but fills the bill. I enjoyed my salmon and scrambled eggs with a Mimosa, water, and coffee, and a copy of The Sunday New York Times provided by the restaurant. After the brunch offerings were consumed, I went to get ready for the event.
Fast forward to after The Night of 100 Stars Party. I went back to the same Polo Lounge and wound up having a lively conversation with two people - one is a woman who's such the regular at The Polo Lounge they call her "Miss" in a familiar way. (To explain, the staff calls everyone Mr. or Miss, but in her case one could tell she's a regular.) That was confirmed as she and I talked and she invited me to join her for dinner at a table not far from the bar.
The bar scene at The Polo Lounge last night was wild, and one that's best viewed with someone who knows the run of the joint; that was my female companion. There were any number of women in short, short skirts and dresses, some from the "Night" party, others who came in from other Oscar-related events, and some who are hotel guests or live nearby.
There was the tall, blonde Jennifer Aniston look-alike with the booming voice who could not keep her dress from hiking up over her thighs talking to an obviously toasted man at the bar. Another quartet of women at a table next to us that my female friend saw looking at a photo of two women in an interesting position. The women at that table were joined by two well-dressed men, both white, and then another man who, in a t-shirt, was just out of place in the establishment. "Oh, look" my female friend said, "They're trying to make that t-shirt guy leave. Drama's developing." Whatever was said, the furor died down and he stayed.
Just as that matter was over, the lights went off. All of them. It was totally black. That was the third time that happened that evening. I don't know why. But what was funny was what I saw when the lights came up: one woman with her legs wrapped around some guy hugging him, who immediately got off him when the lights came up. Too funny.
Just as we were eating our appetizers, Mr. Alec Baldwin walked in like the conquering hero from a war, in this case, hosting the 82nd Annual Academy Awards. Alec Baldwin looked over to our area, apparently knew someone not me, and waved. I thought it polite to give a wave and nod back, and did so. My female companion said "No. Now, he'll never walk over here." I shrugged indifferently. Baldwin looked like he was on his way to another place in the hotel anyway, and I was just happy he walked by.
On the matter of walking, an aside. Alec Baldwin reminds me of my good friend Phil Tagami, who lives in Oakland and rebuilt the Fox Theater and The Rotunda. Phil and Alec both talk alike, walk alike and are built alike. They have that walk where their bodies are constantly leaning slightly forward. Phil Tagami and Alec Baldwin at the same table would be a hoot.
After we finished out meal, which was at closing time for The Polo Lounge, my female companion had some wine-fueled idea of going to what she believed was Alec Baldwin's party. I tagged along thinking she knew someone and having no idea what I was getting into.
So my female companion led me downstairs to another restaurant that had a large diner-like round table. In it was Alec Baldwin and a bunch of people I didn't recognize; I was along for the ride anyway. But just fast as the man who opened the door for us let us in and we sat down, the same guy came over and said "There's a problem because there's one bill and they are only buying food for their group." That was cool with me as I expected to pay for my own meal anyway. But he said they had no way of dividing the tab, and I didn't complain and I was just plain tired anyway.
But my female companion fell into tears.
So I had to explain that it wasn't the end of the World and we could go elsewhere. "No," she whispered, "they let us sit here and that's embarrassing to ask us to leave." But I got her to agree to leave and go upstairs. "OK," she said, "talk me down from this." So we sat down and I explained that being in or out of a room with Alec Baldwin or anyone else is not a measure of one's worth. The bottom line is we didn't know them. Period. "But did you see the woman from Vogue was in there?" she said. I didn't notice. The question is, I told my friend, "do they know us?"
Just as I managed to make her feel better, who comes up the stairs but Alec Baldwin himself, and in a rush. But as he went by, he looked over and again said hello, how are you, but was in stride, followed by six women, one of them dressed in a white bathrobe and slippers! I obviously was paying no attention to what was going on down there, but whatever happened, Baldwin departed as quickly as he came, walking again like Phil Tagami.
My female companion then gave me a tour of the hotel, which is divided into interesting bungalows. Then we bid our good-byes and I left. After one small adventure after another it was time for sleep. For a guy who didn't get an invite to The Vanity Fair Oscar Party, I have a feeling the party came to me.
Stay tuned. I'll post more videos and blogs from the Oscars after I return home today. But this one could not wait.
