On Fame

"What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little." - Lord Byron



I blame my friends. I blame my family. And most of all, I blame my boyfriend for my recent brush with "fame," or rather, for not preventing it. The names of the people involved have been omitted to protect me from humiliation.

A couple of months ago, I went to the city with a bunch of girlfriends to go to a comedy club that we frequent on weekends. We'd seen and met dozens of celebrities and famous comedians while hanging out here; we went there so much, in fact, that one of the regular performers - an old wash-up riding on his glory days at SNL - remembered all of us by name each time he saw us there.

On this particular night, the wash-up was scheduled to perform, along with several unknowns, and one semi-famous comedian who'd had a successful show on Comedy Central for several years. The semi-famous comedian brought the house down with his raunchy sex jokes, the ability to off-handedly shame any audience member who dared to heckle him, and his scathing commentary on recent events (example: he was performing the week that Don Imus was fired; his comment to Imus: "Just because you look like Thomas Jefferson, doesn't mean that you're allowed to talk like him). He was definitely the audience favorite of the night, and I have to admit, I too was a fan. Back when I first started college, I remember watching his television show late at night with friends.

After the show let out, my friends and I went to the bar next door to get drinks and hang out for a while. While waiting to get the bartender's attention, I noticed a figure sidle up next to me. When I looked in that direction, I saw that it was the semi-famous comedian.
He then commenced to speak to me; names were exchanged (even though I already knew his name), and such information as where I'm from, and "what I do."
As the time neared 1AM, I told him I had to go to catch the next train home (why on earth does the metro north close at 2am on weekends??). He then asked me, "would it be out of line if I asked for your number?"
Maybe it was the fact that I'd been drinking. Maybe I just wanted to impress my friends. Either way, beyond my better judgement, I gave him my phone number.

Over the next few weeks, I recieved many relentless phone calls, begging me to come to the city, to hang out, to get drinks, etc. After consulting my boyfriend, and actually being given permission by him to hang out with this guy, I returned his most recent phone call and set up a date.

We met at a park in midtown in the afternoon. He was hungover (this is part of his persona as a comedian). We got some grapefruit juice, sat down, and proceded to talk for about 2 hours.
I learned about his low self-esteem (no matter what people say, he doesn't think he's a good comedian), his strange family (including his brother's mail-order bride), and the reason why he's not married (the alcohol had something to do with it). The whole experience was really strange and surreal. It was like hanging out with a drunk, creepy uncle who'd hit on me from time to time. It was very unsettling.

The one thing that really struck me about this meeting was the fact that he kept getting recognized. People would just come up to him and start talking to him (even though he was clearly busy) like they knew him. And as I sat there, not one of them even looked at me. To them I was a nobody. It was really strange to be completly ignored like that. I just didn't exist to anyone.

And then I wondered what it was like for him. To have people you've never seen before call you by your name. How weird it must be to have someone talk to you like they know you. How does one respond to something like that?
He greeted these people nicely, and then not so subtlely hinted to them that it was now time for them to step away.

I never saw him again after that. He'd been busy in the next couple of months following our "date," filming a special for HBO, and touring. I'd get the occasional e-mail from him. My friends saw him about 2 weeks ago at the very bar that I'd met him at. He came up to them, I guess recognized them, and proceded to ask them questions about me. Even though I was pretty creeped out by the whole experience, I was pretty flattered that I had had an effect on this person's life. Even though he meets tons of people everyday, I'm the one he remembers.