I don’t know what possessed me to check Robsessed at that moment in time, right after they posted the announcement for the TimesTalk Q&A with David Cronenberg and Robert Pattinson on August 15th - but I did. (How do these girls at Robsessed do it anyway? Do they have a Bat Phone to Rob or something? They constantly leave me in awe with their prolific updates and scoops.)
I could go see these guys!
I am located outside of DC, but I recognized quickly that this might be the only chance I get to see Rob in person. Going to premieres, waiting in lines and camping out aren’t in my future (or in my past, and exist only in my nightmares). So I jumped on it. One ticket or two? Two tickets or three? Would Mr. Bitch want to go? Hmmmm…
I’m cheap though, and cheap won out. I bought ONE ticket. Big mistake. Big, BIG, mistake (to quote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman).
By the time I thought to buy more, it was sold out. And they were going for $100’s on Ebay already! Mr. Bitch begged me to sell my ticket. And I was tempted. I mean, what was I thinking? I’m going to go to NYC on a weekday to see Rob for an hour and a half?
There was no way I was going to charge my fellow Rob-crazed partners-in-crime some jacked-up price for a ticket anyway. So while the potential $$$ in front of me was appealing, it wasn’t going to happen. So I put in for PTO, got 2 Amtrak tickets and tried to figure out how I was going to get Mr. Bitch to come with me for the day – to sit in line.
Yes, initially I was going to get off the train and sit in line – all day – so I could be as close to Rob as possible. I cursed TimesTalks for their “general admission” tickets and even tried to find someone I could pay $100 to sit on line for me. Eventually the insanity subsided and I was resigned to at least being in the same room as Rob and playing the line-waiting-game that day by ear.
I pleaded and begged and cajoled Mr. Bitch to escort me. But he wouldn’t commit. When the “scandal” broke, he was convinced Rob wouldn’t show, and kept that stance up all the way to the point he saw him with his own eyes in NY. So when I announced we would now be taking the 3 a.m. train to see Rob at Good Morning America, I was pushing my luck. He was still telling me to sell the ticket…
“Waaa, waaa, waaa, you have to come! I need you that day! You know you’ll have fun once you’re there with me! Waaa, waaa, waaa.” And finally, finally, he relented (I may have offered sex) and took the day off so he could join me. And away we went...
The last time I was on Amtrak was for a trip to Charleston, SC - the time a tree fell on the track during a rain storm and we were stuck on the train for 24 hours. Oh, and on the way down some drunk bitch wouldn’t shut up in the “Quiet Car” and no one at Amtrak had the balls to kick her off. So why I thought we could sleep on the train to NY is beyond me. We didn’t.
Pretty much sucked this bad.
When we arrived with no sleep at Penn Station at 6:40 a.m., we had to book it to get to GMA by 7. The last time I was in NYC was 2002, but I knew its either you keep moving or die. Unfortunately I have a bad heel that started acting up that week (of course) and when I tried to run across a street, something snapped. I.suddenly.couldn’t.walk. Fuck. I have a day of walking around NYC ahead of me, and I just lost one of my feet. Perfect!
I really could have used Tori Spelling's scooter that day.
You can see inside the studio, except for the giant screen, where they do the weather, cock-blocking us.
And the people-watching was superb. Homeless guy with the sign “Need cash for weed”? Priceless.
There were at least 100 of these women who camped out/waited hours to see Rob.
Only the first 5-10 in this photo got a photo or autograph when Rob came out. Ouch.But soon enough, I could see Rob through the window entering the studio and I became all psycho fan, getting as close in as possible, taking photos of the back of his head. (If I had to give the day a theme it was “Rob’s Bitch is always at the wrong angle”. I could see George Snufalufagus just perfectly, fuck you very much.) Rob glowed. His hair glowed. The whole studio was enraptured. Angels sang.
|I did see him play with his hair at one point!|
It was only 8:30 in the morning and we were in sleep-deprived comas, and I couldn’t walk. Thus started the day’s mantra “I’m never doing anything this stupid again.” We needed sleep!
I limped over to a Duane Reade pharmacy to find something for my foot. (Are there Duane Reade’s anywhere else but Manhattan? ) Bingo, I found something that would allow me to walk, albeit slowly. As I was adjusting my shoes, Mr. Bitch says "There's Elmo". And sure enough, there was Elmo.
If you look closely you can see her trying to look through her big head to sign the autograph, lol.
We ate breakfast and I had an epiphany – let’s go to Central Park, lay under a tree and take a nap! Yeah, they’re calling for thunderstorms, but it looks fine. So that’s what we did. We took a death-defying cab ride to 72nd Street and found a spot overlooking the Boat House. Perfect. Until some asshole started playing the ukele. I think we slept for a little bit, although it was hard to do when you’re trying to sleep and not get mugged at the same time.
Mini Rob pretty much sucks at warding off muggers.
Central Park is actually incredibly beautiful and well-maintained. At least in that area.