Two big things happened in New York City on Monday night and they both made me feel very old in a conspicuous, age-is-NOT-just-a-number kind of way.
(The only thing I ask before jumping into them is that you not judge the venue choices, because that’s a whole separate ball of wax that won’t be discussed here today)
1. Sometime around midnight we stumbled upon an HBO party at Tao. And for some reason Josh Charles — aka Will Gardner on The Good Wife — was there and I almost lost it.
In my entire lifetime, I’ve had Two Serious Television Crushes – Tim Riggins and Will Gardner, with Christian Troy from Nip/Tuck in the runner up spot. And even though you’re not supposed to freak out about celebrities in New York, I freaked out, because I’m not from New York and I’m fascinated by celebrities and I’m shameless enough to outright admit it.
Anyway as soon as I saw him, I began frantically pointing and saying to my friends, very indiscreetly, “Will Gardner just walked in! Holy shit! Look at his suit! I love him!” and they kept saying, “Who’s Will Gardner?” to which I replied “the hot lawyer from the Good Wife” and they said “Which one?” and I couldn’t remember his name in real life so I just kept repeating “the hot one!” and trying various other methods of describing him until I finally blurted out really loud: SUE-ELLEN’S BOYFRIEND WHO DROVE THE CLOWN DOG TRUCK IN DON’T TELL MOM THE BABYSITTER’S DEAD!!!!!
And they said, “Ohhhhhhhhh, that guy!”
The second thing that made me feel old was a little more tragic. But also kind of funny.
2. THIS MOMENT
We decided to end the night at Avenue, because it was nearby and apparently the “spot” on Monday nights and mostly because we figured we had nothing to lose by engaging in a little club-scene cheesiness.
We were unintentionally tailing a pack of scantily clad 19 year old girls as we walked up to the entrance. And when I say “scantily clad” I mean each of them was five threads away from being naked. Truth be told I kind of admired their confidence. Anywho, lots of cheek kisses were exchanged with the doorman as the girls were ushered past the rope. But right as we appeared at the front of the line, the doorman placed the rope back in its tether, cutting us off from the entrance without explanation.
At first I was like, maybe he just wants to stagger the crowd, but then that I noticed an older guy in a really bad suit (like, ESPN commentator bad) sizing us up from his perch behind the doorman. He also had a rather impressive mustache — think John Travolta in Taking of Pelham 123.
Anyway it didn’t take long to figure out that this guy was responsible for determining Avenue’s clientele for the night. Sure enough, after a few minutes of awkward silence, Handlebar ‘Stache summoned the doorman and whispered something in his ear.
The doorman returned to us and said, “You ladies can come in, but you’ll need to pay $100. Oh, and there’s a two-drink minimum.”
But what I heard was, I CAN’T LET YOU IN ‘CAUSE YOU OLD AS FUCK. FOR THIS CLUB, YOU KNOW, NOT FOR THE EARTH. I mean, telling us we need to cough up $100 and also pay for our drinks after a bunch of under-ageds got in without so much as a flash of a drivers’ license pretty much amounts to age discrimination, you know?
I actually took it pretty well. I think. To draw out the Knocked Up comparison a little longer, I was the quietly embarrassed Katherine Heigl (minus the pregnant part) and Tara was the irate Leslie Mann getting up in the doorman’s face: “what, just because we didn’t wrap our ass cheeks in saran wrap like the other girls we have to pay $100 to hang out at your lame club and then buy shitty watered down drinks on top of it?” Don’t worry, we left shortly thereafter.
That’s all I’ve got for today, but before I sign off, any Getting Old Rejection Stories you have for me are greatly appreciated!