Regular readers
of this blog will recall that my wedding anniversary falls during award show
season every year and we tend to take advantage of the night when everyone in
tinsel town at an awards party to get a nice dinner reservation at an exclusive
restaurant. This year He-Who-Was-Dumb-Enough-to-Marry-Me found an even more
exclusive experience – invitations to a suite at the Grammy Awards and tickets
to People Magazine’s after party. Since there were no hockey games on TV, I had
nothing better to do, so I said yes.
There
are two disclaimers on this entry. 1 – I don’t watch award shows, so if some of
this is common sense to others, it was a surprise to me. 2 – I don’t often
recognize celebrities off the screen. (I had to ask who the opening act was.
Oops.) But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so we took advantage.
This wasn’t
‘behind the scenes’ but it was “off the screen” – as in, we got to see what the
viewers at home miss. I found the whole experience fascinating. The event is
held at the Staples Center – the same place that just a few weeks ago thousands
of screaming fans in jerseys and t-shirts raised a plastic cup of beer to cheer
the L.A. Kings getting their Stanley Cup Champion rings. Last night was a
slightly different ceremony.
For starters,
the red carpet has nothing on the fashion of the rest of the crowd. Perhaps
that was because none of us got ‘the memo’ that Jennifer Lopez referred to in
her award presentation. According to the L.A. Times CBS had sent a dress code
to those who were going to be on TV. “The network effectively banned "thong-type costumes" and
dresses exposing "female breast nipples" in a bid to preempt the kind
of high-profile wardrobe malfunction that derailed Janet Jackson's 2006 Super Bowl performance.”
The rest of the
crowd ignored these rules. Several wardrobe malfunctions were nearly cause by a
combination of a fashion trend in dresses with trains and partygoers focused on
composing the perfect tweet rather than looking at where they were going. I am
also wondering if there is an acute shortage of sheer material – it seems to
have been sucked up in L.A. and pasted on women trying very hard to look almost
naked while technically being clothed. Birds who have flown south to Mexico for
the winter may also want to consider staying there. The amount of the delicate
feathers parading around on women’s hips last night means there are a lot of
naked birds running around.
But no one knows
how to dress up like Los Angelinos. They can pick the perfect outfit for
standing in line at the McDonald’s concession stand for the fries they need to tide
them over until the after party. The live nature of the production makes for awkward
‘evening out’ timing in a city that doesn’t like to get started before 10 p.m.
But by 4:30 if you were going to watch the show, you needed to be in your seat
and ready to not leave. Empty seats at an awards show would be just scandalous!
So if you left during a commercial break and didn’t make it back by the time
the audience was commanded to applause for the next cut in, you were held out
and a seat filler was keeping your place warm.
Speaking of
commercial breaks – I had no idea there would be so many! But being there in person
I can see why. In the age of spectacle’s the stage had to handle highly
creative sets put together and taken down in a matter of minutes. It was one of
the more impressive aspects of the evening, including how quickly they got the
stage dry after making it rain on Fun. (For the uninitiated, that is the name
of a band who won several times last night.) Their live performance tried to make it look like they were not in Southern California, so it rained on them. During the commercial break they needed to get rid of the 'rain' not expelled during the act. It was like someone emptying the garden hose onto the stage before putting it away.
In the arena
screens showed event goers what the TV broadcast looked like, but spared those
in black tie the impetuousness of having to watch Gangum Style Wonderful
Pistachio commercials. (View it here if you missed the Super Bowl Ad: http://getcrackin.com/)
We were treated to past Grammy performances, which is good considering what the
tickets cost - commercials would have been insulting. There was one group in the arena, however, that may have been
getting a really bad deal. A production tower was erected about Center Ice, yet
there were floor seats behind it. Those people were literally watching the show
on a TV the size of the one in my living room. We didn’t pay much attention to
them, but speculated later that this was the group of seat fillers who shuffled
in and out as needed. I certainly hope that was the case, because I would have
been pissed to show up for a view as good as my living room but without my DVR,
my ability to use the restroom whenever I felt like it, and a comfortable
chair. The entire floor area was covered with folding chairs. Sure, they were
padded, but there is a reason that no one uses folding chairs as their living
room furniture. Four hours on one had to be pushing the ends of butt comfort
ability.
Though, at least
they were seated. Captured in two sections of the stage were groundlings – fans
standing for hours to provide the hand waving audience for live performances.
Admittedly, they got a great view of L.L. Cool J’s butt, if that kind of thing
thrills you. But they also served as the dustbin for the stage sweeper.
There were also
some moments before the show and during commercial breaks that TV viewers were
spared, such as the stage hand who grabbed the mic to make a joke about
everyone needing to learn the chorus to the song “Hey, Ho” so we could sing
along (it’s Hey, Ho, for those who might not know - commit it to memory). No response came from the
combination of people racing to the bathrooms for speed peeing and those trying
to figure out exactly where Prince got his hoodie tuxedo. The stand-up career suffered
an early but humane demise.
The after party
was next door at the convention center. I have been asked if I rubbed elbows
with any celebrities. I have no idea. One probably would have had to introduce themself
to me. And I was too busy feeling badly for the entertainment. The room had an
Indian theme to it, complete with girls in saris dancing with snakes, swords
and parasols. Yes parasols. Someone will have to explain that one to me. It
might have all been beautiful and entertaining in its own right, except that
they were dancing to a DJ spinning pop music and the live acts for the night. I
would be very interested to know what the producer envisioned when he had a
lovely young Indian woman holding a sword trying to execute traditional dance moves
to Estelle’s hit American Boy. I don’t
think it translated for the rest of us.
But in plain
language – the night was fabulous. The music was excellent, watching the
production come to life fascinating, the people watching interesting – and occasionally
disturbing. Clearly there are some shops in Los Angeles I have never seen…..I
do not know where these people get their outfits.
But these fun
nights out help us acquire the skills to Survive L.A., like making it to the
stadium bathroom and back in a 90-second break. Ready, go! (And I cannot wait
to see what he comes up with for our next anniversary!)
