Three Questions

by Meagan Adele Lopez

  The sight of Britney made me sad.

  Not because people used to tell me how much we looked alike or that we were the same age, nor because she had become so successful and I hadn’t. Not even because she had more money than she knew what to do with. It was the fact that her eyes were vacant and bored and that she surrounded herself with people who had even more vacancy in their eyes.

  And in order to fill that void, she left for the bathroom every five minutes or so – that made me sad. The bathroom trips weren’t to reapply her protective armor of red lipstick either, since when she came back, the red seemed to slowly smear up into the ridges of her nose and around the corners of her mouth.

  I secretly had always wanted her to get out of this three-year rut, as did most of the girls and gay men of my generation. She had everything I wanted. She was the girl that everyone loved and wanted to be like. But then she started getting into trouble with the law, with making babies and squeezing one too many burgers into that zygote of a body.

  Her problem was that she forgot to find herself before the fame, so she was doing it in front of the world. Her problem was that she sought love in all the wrong places. Her problem was that too many people had opinions about what her problem was. And now she didn’t know where to begin. So those zero calorie cocktails and powder up the nose would have to do in the meantime. And honestly, if I had found fame that young, the same just might have happened to me. Was this really the type of attention I wanted for myself? I was beginning to think my answer wouldn’t make my high school self very happy.

  “Excuse me, I need sparkling water, three orders of that - however you pronounce it - friends that won’t talk about me to the paparazzi, a side of loyalty and love, ummm, maybe some self-respect on the rocks and for dessert, a good singing voice,” I imagined Ms. Spears saying to the waitress. She didn’t eat anything she had ordered. She may have taken two bites out of the dessert and that was it.

  Chelsea and I were still trying to make ourselves seem important and busy while secretly trying to listen to every word she said. She didn’t say much, and we did feel bad for her. I felt really lucky at that moment to have a best friend like Chelsea whom I had known for twenty years and still have so much to talk about. And through it all, I couldn’t help myself. The champagne was getting to me and when would I ever have the chance to speak to Britney Spears again?

  “Excuse me, Ms. Spears. I just wanted to let you know that I’m looking forward to your next tour.” God, I sounded like a fawning idiot. Chelsea’s stare was burning into the back of my neck.

  Ms. Spears didn’t look up but just nodded slightly and mustered a slight curling up of the lips. I tried another tactic. “Do you happen to have a cigarette I could bum?” Why on earth would I ask her for a cigarette? She looked up in a bit of shock mixed with amusement.

  “I don’t smoke,” she stated, staring me down, looking for a filming device, I assumed.

  “Oh, I just thought…sorry. I can buy my own…I just thought…umm…you want to hear something funny? People used to tell me I looked like you. Like, they would yell ‘Britney’ in the middle of the street. Crazy, huh?”

  Nothing.

  “Anyway, enjoy the show.” I bashfully turned back to Chelsea and rolled my eyes at her.

  “Good one,” she mouthed.

  “I know.” I shook my head, and grabbed my phone from my purse again. Why was it still lit up? Oh shit. Gregory was still on the phone. I wondered how much he’d heard, but promptly clicked it off. “Let’s just go, Chels. I want to go dancing.”

  “Here you go,” a voice said to me from over my shoulder. I turned to see Britney with her hand outstretched, and two Marlboro Lights in her open palm. “Take two in case your friend wants one.”

  “Oh. Thank you, I think,” I gulped. I nudged Chelsea, grabbed her purse, and pushed her out of the booth. She fell to the ground and gave me a glare with narrowed eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. She picked herself back up with my help and grabbed the purse out of my hand. She power walked towards the exit. I followed suit, looking back and waving to Britney as I ran out the door. The bill was paid, and I wasn’t going to stick around to embarrass myself some more. I couldn’t believe how stressful it was to be in the presence of a famous person.

  “Oh my God!” Chelsea exclaimed as I ducked expecting her to punch me. “I’m not going to punch you. Besides you pushing me out of the booth…that was awesome! We have two cigarettes from Britney Spears.”

  “I know. God, I’ve never been so nervous. Should we smoke them?”

  “Yes. Definitely.” And we erupted in fits of giggles as if we had just run away from the chocolate factory having stolen the golden ticket from Verruca Salt. After we re-composed ourselves, we made our way to the Flamingo Hotel’s casino. Smoking indoors was so thrilling, evoking nostalgia of the old days, like being underage in Moby’s bar on the Baltimore waterfront. Drinking after the age of 21 always felt lackluster and somehow less of an event, just like smoking outside did now. I was grossed out by my own thought, but it was so true. As much as I hated smoking, there were certain moments of it that were purely gratifying…like after a good glass of wine, a big meal or having been handed a cigarette by the one of the biggest pop stars on the planet.

  “God. I’ve never met someone that famous. I meet one pop star and I’m tongue tied and sweating,” I said.

  “At least you didn’t literally fall over in front of her.”

  “True. Sorry about that,” I winced.

  Re-entering the show was not an option at this point. Now we were off to our next adventure. On the streets of Las Vegas Boulevard were hundreds of men handing out flyers of naked women in extremely disturbing, compromising positions, but mixed amongst the naked women were handouts for free entry to clubs. One man in particular rushed across the street, dodging cars to chase us down and gave us a free pass to Tao nightclub. Dead set on going to Tryst at the Wynn Hotel instead, we politely turned him down.

  Sunday, 15 June, 2008

  Adorable A,

  Well Africa over land is practically done. 56 days, 9 countries, over 11,000 km. Loved it. Egypt and Jordan will be the last leg. Will be very nice to come back home to hot water and a bed. I sort of miss my tent. Never thought I’d be saying that.

  Weather is shocking here in Cape Town today, so no climb up Table Mountain after all. Dull and grey, and you can only see half of the mountain due to the mist. Gutted. Went back to bed ‘til midday as a result, which was a bit of a waste, but I obviously needed the sleep.

  Have a township tour (the rural black slums) and Robben Island (Mandela’s prison) to see tomorrow before trying to climb the mountain again Tuesday. Been nice doing nothing today though I must admit.

  And yes, I did mention I was doing the shark dive, numbnuts. Check yesterday’s dialogue feed on our chat. Must have had a beer. But I’ll tell you what happened just because I’m a nice bloke. I was literally face to face with a great white shark at one point, and then had another’s tail smack the cage and my face. Yes, my face!

  Saw several different great whites. Some over four metres in length. What was truly surreal was to be that close. My face must have been 30 cm away from the jaws of one. They throw tuna on a rope into the water and when the sharks circle it, they pull it to the cage and then out of the water. Knackering!

  Anyway, after all this time in Africa, and seeing as we haven’t spoken in a few days, I have learned one or two things, so I thought I’d share them with you:

  *I’m shit at looking after sunglasses. I’m on my third pair.

  *I’m shit at looking after flip-flops. I’m on my third pair.

  *I can handle getting up between 5a.m. and 6a.m. for over 8 weeks.

  *I snore, yes. And loud, yes! But nowhere near as loud as some people - therefore I’m not as bad as my mates have made out.

  *I can go five days without a shower

  *When you have the opportunity to take a hot shower, take it; do
n’t go to the bar for another beer.

  *When you have the opportunity to take a cold shower, take it; don’t go to the bar for another beer.

  *I-spy is the shittiest game in the world.

  *Bugs are OK. I have shared many a tent, bathroom, etc. with all sorts of spiders, geckos, cockroaches, mozzies, etc. etc.

  *I love washing machines.

  *On seeing a dead body on the road (twice), do not try to take a photo. Horrible, sickening. One girl did, and why would you want a record of that?

  *I’m a nice bloke.

  *Exercise when you have to do it sucks; when you have no real time to do it, you miss it.

  *I’m not a strong swimmer.

  *Did I mention I’m a nice bloke?

  *I’m not much of an animal lover. Once you’ve seen a lion, you’ve seen a lion. It’s exciting the first time you see it and it’s six feet away from you. Likewise second time round, it’s exciting. On your third time, you take a photo and still smile, maybe even the fourth time. By the fifth time, you want it to kill something so you can take a photo, maybe even knob the lioness for a photo. By the tenth time, you’re so over lions; you’d rather see a cheetah. The same rule applies here, etc. etc.

  *I can’t handle not having the latest football news.

  *I miss newspapers.

  *Australians are nuts.

  *Americans are loud (except you of course).

  *Japanese are hard to understand.

  *Enough said about the Welsh.

  *Budgeting for a trip is done for a reason. I have spent double what I should have spent.

  *Africa is beautiful.

  *You miss friends and family when travelling for long periods.

  *I like not working.

  *I’m tempted to become an unemployed gypsy.

  *United are awesome.

  *Putting on sun lotion sucks…without a fit bird like Adele putting it on for you. (Yes, you.)

  *I’ve learned a lot about who I am and what I like and don’t like; that people are different, arrogance is ugly, ignorance is even worse. Corruption kills and life is for living. So stop whinging and live it.

  *Oh, and I’m a nice bloke.

  Football’s great. The European Championship has started. No, England isn’t in it. (Not allowed to mention that.) Spain just beat Sweden, and your boys, the French, lost 4-1 to Holland yesterday. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

  Hair salon again? I thought you just went. Is it a wig? Thanks for the Father’s day reminder – must remember to text dad.

  Wow – nasty injuries you got.

  Here goes.

  1. Five things for me – 1. Ruptured ankle ligaments, which meant I was using crutches for eight weeks. Was pissed at a footy match, snapped the ankle celebrating a goal, stayed out all night and made it worse. Was like a balloon come morning. 2. Broke little toe on stair banister that same year. Ran to get the phone, cracked toe on banister, toe was pointing the opposite direction but I only noticed once I was on the phone. 3. Had eight stitches over left eye after clash of heads playing footy. 4. Five stitches in wrist after accident with a saw. (Don’t ask!) 5. Broke two knuckles in a fight with a bouncer.

  2. Superstitions don’t make sense to me at all – although, being in Africa, you certainly hear a lot.

  3. If I won the lottery, what would I do with the money? Same as you – minus the arts school – maybe turn it into a footie school for me instead. (And no, I’m not cheating from your answers, you just answered them before me.)

  Two more days here, then direct to Egypt. Talk about a long trip! I’ll email you as soon as I can. Chicagotown not too far.

  Guy x x x

  Tuesday, June 17th, 2008

  Guy, Man, Lad, Dude, Homo Sapien, Bloke, Sir, How goes it?! One more day of South Africa for you, and then you’re off to Egypt.

  Loved reading all that you’ve learnt. If I didn’t hear it once, I heard it a million times from my mother, always asking “So, what did you learn from this experience?” Way to devote that much energy to your quest.

  No, I don’t have a wig. I mean, I do have a wig for when my agent wants me to look Hispanic. It’s black and long. But, I actually got my hair cut. All of it. Not just one of my hairs.

  I had to wear the wig today actually. I had two auditions for television shows in which they wanted a sexy Latina girl. Why they asked me, I have no idea.

  All of a sudden a few small acting gigs have come along…just when I’m starting to realize this might not be what I want after all. (Could I really be saying that?)

  I had a shoot this past weekend for a music video where I played the girlfriend. It was a lot of fun and very exhausting, but at the same time boring. We danced, danced and danced again. The song is really catchy and cute. It’s kind of like a high-energy rap/song. Reminds me of an early nineties song, I can’t think of which one. I think it might be big. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. But, GOD - if I never smile again, it will be too soon, and there are so many more talented singers out there without this opportunity. How do they pick who gets to be at the top??

  In other Adele news, I got a call last night from this theater company I used to work for, saying their lead girl dropped out and that I would be perfect for the role. So I have to go there today to read the script and read the part for them. The thing I’m a little concerned about is the commitment. I’ll see what the play is like and if it’s worth it.

  The show would basically be running through to October. Won’t worry about Chicago plans just yet though. I will let you know what I think. It would have to be a really good part for me to change my ticket. A REALLY good part. After all, we’ve been planning this for so long.

  God, I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve been so excited to see you and if I had to put it off even longer…I’ll wait until I read it. No need to jump ahead of myself, is there?

  Speaking of Chi town, and seeing as it’s getting so close, I did some research and found some things I’d like to do - besides spending lots of time snuggling with you, obviously.

  A baseball game would be great…never been to Wrigley field, maybe a museum like the Art Institute or Frank Lloyd Wright’s home… definitely pizza and never been to the Sears tower. Walk around the lake, and I heard they have a great Baha’i worship center or something of the sort.

  Honestly though, we could just do nothing but hang out and I’d have fun. I’m sure of it. Have you done any or all of these things before?

  All right, for the last leg of your trip, you must answer these three questions. And, make them good ones! That’s an order.

  1. Would you prefer to know the day you were going to die, and the exact moment, or just keep living and not know?

  2. If you were suddenly blind, how would your idea of a perfect girlfriend change?

  3. What’s your dream car? (Be careful, for this seems like an easy question, but the answer you give tells more about you than you think…)

  Good luck on your flight, and talk soon.

  Xoxo,

  AC

  THE RULES OF RINGING

  Our next adventure hadn’t happened yet, and it was five o’clock in the morning. My pointy leather stiletto boots were killing me, the sun was coming out to tell us that it was Easter Sunday and time to go home, and yet, Chelsea was undeniably smitten with a twenty year old Brazilian named Leo who had chased us down in the casino nearly three hours earlier. After the Britney incident, we continued to drink and Chelsea went beyond the realm of cooperation or comprehension.

  I had tried to walk out on her many times already, but she wouldn’t let me leave. She wouldn’t get up to come after me either, she would get her boy toy to come get me. I knew I was very drunk, but still very alert, while Chelsea was on a completely different level of intoxication. There was no having a conversation with her, no talking sense into her, and no amount of physical pull that would make her leave either. She became as strong and forceful as I imagined a gorilla to be.

  She spoke
in Spanish, he spoke in Portuguese. The amount of drunken hope that seeped out of her was filling the casino – hoping for a new life with this young man named Leo, hoping he was the one she was supposed to meet (instead of the husband she already had), hoping he would turn into an older, wiser man, hoping she could stay in this casino forever watching this young man profess his undying love for her.

  He was professing it – and deeply. He’d made her a paper ring from his cocktail napkin. She played with him, finally feeling power over a man. She made him get down on his hands and knees to propose properly. She cackled incessantly after that. She thought it was the greatest thing she had ever seen, and had even pulled me over to take a look.

  Leo didn’t mind. He had fallen for her under the hubbub of the five dollar, alien-themed, gambling machine. I just prayed they didn’t see the sign for the chapel so I wouldn’t have to convince her that polygamy was not the way to go.

  This was Vegas love. The type of love that makes people get married the same night they meet. Passionate, blind love. The type of love that could never last. I’d seen straight A students who had never left their hometowns suddenly become slutty, drunken, flashy vixens who discovered the power of sexual provocation walking on the arms of debonair, forty year old millionaires or trashy fake cowboys in Cadillacs.

  This was the type of love that Romeo and Juliet felt on the streets of Verona. Young and viral love.

  Even the air was different in Las Vegas, being churned in from all angles of the buildings.

  Vegas created the illusion of being in a cocoon, pumping self-belief and turning out delusional butterflies, but forgetting to make wings for getting off the ground. Once the veil of Vegas was lifted and the students returned to the Bible belt or Chelsea returned to her husband, they would shudder at who they had become during those two days. The males they had been with would turn into disgusting oafs and they would question their entire being, or deny it wholeheartedly. No one could make it after a Vegas fling. It just didn’t happen.

  Seeing Chelsea with Leo made me wonder if anyone could be happy with one man for the rest of her life. She clearly was missing the male attention, and this bacchanalian version of it made her feel provocative – something she clearly hadn’t felt for some time. Most of it was fascinating to watch. I wasn’t sure if she intentionally knew she was manipulating his young heartstrings, but he was certainly getting tied up.