SCENE ONE: music school in Hollywood, specific location not to be disclosed for fear of stalkers
Samia is late to her 6:30 songwriting class due to LA traffic. She parks at a meter at 6:38 and fills it til 7:58, running out of coins and hoping a parking attendant won’t drive by and see a flashing “expired” light between 7:58 and 8pm. She leaves meter, scurries through an alley, up some stairs, and goes through a doorway. Immediately, she spots David Beckham. Or at least a man who appears to LOOK like David Beckham.
SK (to herself in her mind): OMG, that guy is so hot. Wait. OMG. That’s David Beckham. OMG. That name makes him infinitely hotter. Ugh. Am I really wearing a sweatshirt with an oversized penguin on it?! Of all the effing days.
Samia quickly looks away as to not stare and finds a receptionist to address
Receptionist: Are you here for the songwriting workshop? Just sign in here.
SK (to herself in her mind): Does it look that obvious that I’m here for a songwriting session? Do I have ‘heartbroken’ written all over my face or something? How did you know I’m desperate to get in touch with my inner Taylor Swift? OMG. I’m becoming paranoid. She doesn’t know. Does she? Maybe she just doesn’t have anyone else coming in. Or maybe she has a list of names and she racially profiled me and pinned me as ‘Samia.’ Ugh. I’m in my head. I’m definitely paranoid. I wonder if the unconfirmed-David-Beckham sees the panic and the sweat dripping down my face. Wait a second. I don’t sweat. Sweating is for gross people. Ack! Pull it together, SK.
Samia: Yeah. Sorry I’m late. Traffic.
SK (to herself in her mind): Quick! It doesn’t matter if you’re 10 minutes late for class, create a diversion! Figure out a way to interact with “Beckham.”
Samia: Do you guys have a restroom here?
Samia: Oh silly me, what a stupid question. Of course you have a restroom here. What kind of place doesn’t have a restroom? That would be really awkward if you didn’t…
SK (to herself in her mind): Did I really just allude to the fact that one could well, shit oneself, if they didn’t have a bathroom? In front of DB? Yes.
Receptionist: Haha, yes we do. It’s just back there to the right.
Random guy: I think someone just went in there actually.
SK (to herself in her mind): Oh darn, I’ll just have to go sit next to this alleged Beckham guy.
SCENE TWO: A minute later. Samia is sitting down on a chair next to “David Beckham”
Samia’s desperately trying to think of something to say, all the while looking inconspicuous by reading Twitter, and making subtle side glances over the tattooed-up, attractive man. Suddenly, the receptionist speaks. (This next interaction is not verbatim and will be paraphrased off of Samia’s crappy memory.)
Receptionist: So how are the rest of your boys doing? Keeping busy?
David Beckham: Yeah, they’re doing well between Tae Kwon Do and Soccer and this.
SK (to herself in her mind): Yep, that was a British accent. Yep, Becks has three boys. This is confirmed David Beckham. Shhh.. MIND! Stop thinking! David is talking!
David Beckham: The seven-year-old loves Tae Kwon Do, the nine-year-old is busy with soccer, and the 12-year-old wants to do both AND music lessons.
SK (to herself in her mind): Ha. He said ‘soccer’, not football. Fake Brit.
David Beckham: It’s important to have them interested in something.
The receptionist and David Beckham continue to banter. Samia is too busy trying to think of something to say to pay attention to the rest of the conversation.
SK (to herself in her mind): WTF. Why am I star struck? I’ve gotten in trouble for talking too much, and NOW I can think of nothing to say?! You’ve let me down, brain. I’ve interviewed people as famous as him, tons. What gives? I don’t even LIKE soccer.
Samia observes how easy-going and cordial and nice David Beckham is. He’d surely talk to a fan, making this moment all the more frustrating. Suddenly, someone leaves the restroom.
SCENE THREE: A few minutes later. Samia exits restroom.
David is looking at Samia. With a big smile. One asking ‘Hey, talk to me! Acknowledge my fame and celebrity, I’m nice!’ Or maybe a smile that says ‘Silly girl with her penguin sweatshirt.’ Samia just smiles back. And walks to her music class. Nothing. The moment passes.
SCENE FOUR: Thirty minutes later. In a classroom.
Samia is in class, half paying attention to how to write a song, half concerned about how she is going to tweet said-encounter and moreso upset by the fact that she couldn’t come up with an opening line for conversation. Then, it clicks.
SK (to herself in her mind): “So, in addition to soccer, you’re now a musician?” Yes. That line. That line would have totally worked! He would have laughed! Or at least chuckled. Or at least smirked. He would have acknowledged me for sure. OMG. Wait. Did it just take me 30 minutes to come up with a joking little ice breaker?! Really. Wow. Ugh. I’m so stupid…well, at least I eavesdropped his convo. I have to blog about this.
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