The red carpet is over and the party is running smoothly. Everyone is having a good time. The famous are mingling and drinking with the infamous. There aren't any complaints, as of yet.
My colleagues and I have a break and are finally able to sit down. There are some banquettes inside the Boiler House that split the venue into two areas: bar and lounge. We're sitting on the lounge side.
There's a buffet, approximately 75-feet long, with several stations. All of the food is hot and the smells are wafting my way. I'm hungry and haven't eaten anything all night. I have had several drinks, but tonight isn't the night for a liquid dinner.
As I step near the buffet, there's no one around. I move from right to left and pick and choose a few things. By the time I reach the end, there's a rather tall man next to me, a shorter man and a fuller-figured woman. They're looking at the lids of the warming trays. I already know what's in them; I peeked inside them on an earlier trip inside the venue.
It takes me two seconds to realize who the taller man is: Gerard Butler. He's just as handsome (if not a little tired-looking) in the flesh as he is in the movies. The shorter man and the woman are movie people and aren't important in the general sense of the hierarchy of the world.
They're still looking at the trays and not touching them. Me, being famished, move over to them and pick up one of the large spoons, used to scoop out food.
"Excuse me, but could you please move out of the way?" I point the spoon at Gerard and wave it in concentric circles, like I'm brandishing a sharp sword in the movie 300
. "I'm trying to get some rice."
He looks at me, and takes a step back. I move forward, open the tray, scoop out some rice, close the tray, and rest the spoon on a plate. When I finish my routine, the three of them go back to looking down at the warming trays as before. I, on the other hand, sit down on a leather banquette and enjoy my dinner.
And, ladies and gentlemen, that's how I introduced myself to Gerard Butler.