I know there are those sitting perched and ready to hear about the Irish Gala. So I've come down to the business center at my NYC hotel, the city life is swarming outside the window, there is some guy sitting next to me, talking a mile a minute, making bets with his bookie, taxis are honking, sirens are blaring, this place is a swirl of activity and I am trying my best to tap into my inner "sanctum", to sort through the memories of the evening and to find the words to describe how I feel about last night.
I didnt sleep a wink last night. The events of last evening kept playing though my head, quick and repititious, I'd try to recall exact phrases, try to figure out what was meant, I'd relive something that was said, I'd admonish myself for something that was not said.I am exhausted as hell, have just seen "Steady Rain" with Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig and as we were leaving the theater, I found it funny to see the swarms of women lining up at the stage door, waiting and hoping for glimpse of that tall Australian drink of water, that asthetically perfect actor so many find so beautiful. But as good as it was, I found my mind drifting from that performance, back to the gala the night before, so I've returned to the hotel to get it out, write it down, tell the tale. If I do this, maybe I can finally sleep and finally concentrate on the rest of my trip.
I have to preface it by saying that I've had an extrordinarily stressful week, and I think that my ability to "come through" some very negative events and stare down some hefty demons had left me feeling curiously couragous about my pending Gabriel Byrne encounter. So, the night before my trip, I typed up "the letter". I wrote down the things I had always wanted to say and I stuffed it into a small envelope. I figured if I could make it through this week, I could make it through a little conversation with himself at a cocktail party, and I could hand him this envelope.
I could do this. I could do this. The night of the Gala, AA and I are decked out in our evening wear and we head to the event. We arrive a little after it begins and after saying hello to a few other Gabe fans at the registration area, we made our way to the VIP library. The library is a fairly small room, lined with books and bookshelves, there is a makeshift bar set up in the area near the door, a couch and coffee table in the middle of the room, flanked by two comfortable leather chairs. And there are about 4 little "cubby" hole areas, small pockets of space surrounded on three sides by bookshelves, containing a small desk and chair or containing two comfortable chairs and a center table. I say this because it is important to understand the lay of the land to get the full picture of the evening.
When we entered the library, there were very few people, a handful of socialites or senators, or maybe just fans like ourselves. I would guess there were less than 10 people there when AA and I first came in. I went to grab a glass of wine to settle my nerves, AA went to have a seat on one of the chairs in the center of the room, and I joined her on the couch nearby. We were talking about something, for the life of me, I cant remember what...
and he just walked by the couch...light as air, hardly noticable. He just strolled by, just like that I turned to AA and said as calmly as I could possibly muster "Oh shit its him, he is here, he is here". She was calm and collected and we both sat there like stumps, unable to move, unable not to move, unable to decide the protocol for saddling up to our idol in this decidely intimiate setting.
I think he stopped suddenly near the end of the couch, turned to say something to someone and as he turned back around, his gaze connected with mine and I swear, he looked like he recognized me. There was a look of recognition in his eyes and I dont say it to brag, because I am not completely convinced that it wasnt a look of perplexion. I think I imagined him thinking "is that crazy thread chick actually sitting here in the VIP room?"But I could be projecting my own fears here. Anyway, the tall and lovely Irish woman in green, who was "in charge" of the Gala, grabbed his arm and they both walked past our couch over to the cubby hole to the left, to the intimate space enclosed on 3 sides with two small chairs and a small round cocktail table in between.
I tried not to stare, barely glanced that way now and again, and AA and I struck up a conversation with a nice Irish novelist named Martin, who was even more shy about the possibility of meeting Gabriel Byrne than we. We sat on that couch and talked while not 4 feet away, Gabriel Byrne crossed his lovely suited legs, settled back in his little cubby hole chair, donned his oh-my-fookin-gawd reading glasses and began to read the paperwork that the tall and lovely Irish woman in green had given him. They sat there reading and discussing business, while my heart started thumping thunderously in own ears.
There came a point when the the tall and lovely Irish woman in green got up and left our boy, left him sitting alone, legs crossed reading the paperwork she had given him, and my stomach lurches, even now, reliving the feeling I got seeing him sitting there so close and so alone. I was thinking to myself." If you dont get up and go over there now, you never will". He was sitting alone, alone...
alone girls...alone...in a cubby hole, quietly reading. I told myself and "you have paid an enormous sum of money for the right to approach him at this quiet and intimate moment and say hello. Get up NOW and go and do it!"
AA was nudging me on, the Irish novelist was saying something like "Jayzus just goo for it"..and so with my gutt turning summer salts, I stood up from the couch, turned around toward my purse, the purse that housed the letter, the letter that spilled my secrets, I reached down to grab it and drew myself up to look squarely at the lone and beautiful Gabriel Byrne sitting 4 feet away and I took my first tentative step in his direction.
I wonder if any of you are fans of "The Godfather" and if so, I wonder if you can recall the scene where Michael has gone into the restroom at the restaraunt, he has retrieved the gun from the top of the old fashioned pull-chain toilette, he is looking at himself in the mirror, steadying himself, calming himself and in the background, you hear the rising cacophony of a subway, the din signalling not only the coming train but the thundering turmoil of Michael as he steels himself to open the door...
Ok, it felt like that. I swear if a real subway had driven right under my feet, I wouldnt have been able to hear it over the noise of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. But I did it, I did it...
last night,
I reached for the poet. I only had to walk a few feet but each step felt like my legs were cement bonded with rubber. I took just a few steps when he noticed my approach and I think, I think...I
think it was then that he reached for his glasses and pulled them off, I think he looked up at me from his chair. I reached out my hand and said "Can I say hello?" and he said "yes, hello" and reached up and shook my hand. I said something stupid like "I've actually met you a few times before, but its ok if you dont remember me" and he said "
I DO remember you". I have to tell you girls, that once again, I wasnt sure how to take it. Did he remember me and that was a good thing? Or did he remember me and it was a bad thing. My own insecurities were definitely reaking havoc with me last evening, but I pressed on.
"I met you at Camelot, I was one of the quilt girls, and a few of us came to the Gala last year too".
And then I did it, I did one of two very very brave things last night....
I sat right down in the chair next to him, as if we were old friends just having a conversation, alone in our cubby hole for a "wee" chat, I sat down and talked to him for a brief millisecond...for just a moment, it was just me and Gabe, Gabe and me. It was wonderful and it was frightening and it didnt last more than a minute or two. I had the letter, I had it. But with the feel of the cubby hole, it made it seem too intimate, too personal, I was scared half to death to hand him the letter. I just couldnt do it at that time. At that time, I just couldnt do it.
He asked what brought me to the Gala, and I explained that I often come to NY this time of year and meet my friend for a week of shows and fun. I didnt want to freak him out and make him think I pay a great honking sum of money just to see him. He asked if the Gala was the same time of year the year before and I said yes it was and then...the the tall attractive Irish woman in Green, interrupted us (dammit!) to introduce Gabe to someone who wanted to talk about business opportunities for the Gala.
I felt bizarre sitting there while Gabe stood up and talked business, the tall attractive Irish woman apologized for interrupting and said it would only take a minute which made it hard for me to make a graceful exit...I wasnt sure what the hell to do. So I stood up and talked with the business man's wife for a moment and when I felt I'd waiting long enough, I made a quiet exit while they continued to talk business. I know its not that exciting but just finding the nerve to sit down next to him for about 60 seconds felt like an enormous victory to me.
A short time later, the tall and attractive Irish woman in green came over and asked AA and I to huddle next to Gabe for a picture. When we joined him for the picture, AA asked if he remembered her and I think I reminded him that she was the one that sold her mountain bike to meet him and he definitely confirmed that he did remember her. I am going to leave parts of AA's story for AA to tell but she and Gabe had a wonderful conversation and then we settled in for our picture. Once again, I stood entwined with Mr. Byrne while the photographer took several shots. At one point he asked AA if she was "the one from the South", and I think I said, (a bit forcefully, I admit), "I am the one from the south", and he turned and said "Oh that's you, ok"...
Once pictures were finished, as he was being whisked away to another picture he turned to us and said "We'll talk some more later" and then he was taken away. We retired to the dinner portion of the evening, which I can probably elaborate on later. Most importantly, we had our dinner, met some really nice people. We watched speeches from Mayor Bloomberg and Congressman Crowley I think. A few taped speeches on the screen from Bill and Hillary and then Gabe got up to make a speech about the award they were giving to Muhammed Ali. It was at that moment that I realized that was the paper he was reading when I had approached him. I remember I glanced down briefly at it and it had the name "Muhammed" on it. I sat there hoping that I hadn't bothered him too much while he was trying to study the speech.
Anyway, as the evening drew to a close AA and I managed to make our way over to where he was standing and posing for pictures. As we were heading toward him, the giant projector screen came crashing toward the both of us and AA reached up and caught it before it knocked either of us or anyone else on the head.
As we got our chance to say goodbye to Gabe, I think AA touched his cheek to say farewell and I pressed the letter into his hand and said "Can I give you this letter?" He said sure and he he took it and then he said "I hope you and AA (only he used her real name), were not hurt by that falling screen!" I said no we were fine and I wished him a good evening and we waved goodbye.
I am sure that I will remember more details over the next few days and be glad to elaborate on all but for now, this hurridly typed post has gotten way too long and I have another show to see tonight.
It was a memorable evening, I will never forget it.
TouchedByThPoet
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Edited by TouchedByThPoet at 10/03/2009 2:51 PM PDT
