Day 12: Nicole's Worst Nightmare [Ultimate Extended Edition]

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: June 11-13, 2009 (USEDT)

Some of you will recall the more concise version of this tale, Status Updates and an eventual Facebook Note at the time somewhat covered the essentials:

From My Facebook Notes:
Nicole's Worst Nightmare
Saturday, June 13, 2009 at 10:59am

If you haven't read the Status Update, my venture from LA to NY has turned out like this:

2 hours sleep, hunger, whirlwind shuttle ride, nausea, no luggage trolley, 70 minute check-in line, delayed flight, missed connection, [met a celebrity, more later,] lack of assistance, 90 minute customer service line, starvation, thirst, lack of cash, crap customer service, lost luggage, no flights, no accommodation, strapped finances, more crap customer service, dodgy payphone [Camp America couldn't hear me], flight booked to Providence [near my Camp but couldn't contact camp], stupidly packed laptop power cord in lost luggage, no internet, expensive airport internet, found dodgy accommodation, shuttle to accommodation, expensive internet, phone not working, collapse into a puddle of tears, blubbering international call to sister, expensive internet prices, long shower, 11 hours sleep, breakfast finished 2 hours earlier than sign says...

Anyhow, have hung out at the hotel all day catching up on things. The up side is that my Camp are thoroughly wonderful and will pick me up at Providence airport Saturday morning. Phew.

So the blog is somewhat of a lost cause right now, sorry. Hoping for internet access at Fuller, but remember I currently have no power cord and so I'm at the mercy of others.

Wish me luck... still have to get my luggage found and transported from JFK airport to my camp... *sigh*

Truly my worst nightmare.

Honest to blog, this was actually and literally my worst nightmare prior to departing on my travels. I had genuine bad dreams about missing planes, losing luggage, etc etc.

So, for those that care, here's the Ultimate Extended Edition:

Tony was kind enough to get up and see me off at sparrowfart, I was kind enough to make him carry some of my luggage.

My shuttle driver was unfortunately and annoyingly chatty for 8am in the morning. While his friendly foreigner-enthusiastic endeavours at passing the heavy LA traffic unscenic airport drive by asking me every cliche Australian trivia question he could possibly come up with was somewhat appreciated, having gotten little to no sleep the night before (self-inflicted, I know), it certainly wasn't welcome.

Also unwelcome was LAX's Departures Terminal charging for the use of their luggage trolleys. How rude. Deciding that was a rip off, I opted to cut off my nose to spite my face and dragged my ample (though far less ample than most, I now know) luggage around. Lucky it wasn't far to the end of the 70-minute-long-wait Check-in line. Wahoo.

I sweated the entire 70 minutes that they were going to smack me with a huge fee for my extra luggage. I'd checked several times what United's domestic baggage allowances were, but the signs in the queue (NB: not a word Americans use, apparently, expect a blank stare and a "Huh?" if you use it) seemed to contradict my confidence that I wouldn't need to pay.

I almost had to until the guy at the counter said "Oh, you've flown in internationally?" checking my passport and Qantas ticket inside, "no problem, you're fine". So I guess being an international tourist gives you a free pass for copious luggage. Sweeeeet.

After the most inconvenient security check I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing, the highlight of this whole frightful nightmare took place. I had thrice perved on a hot young guy that had walked back and forwards from a couple that were obviously his parents before I realised that his face seemed familiar.

I probably hadn't noticed this sooner because, sitting as I was, my eye level was right in line with his absolutely smoking hot ass. Oh, he was wearing a hat too, I'm sure that contributed.

For the life of me though, I couldn't place his face (or his top notch butt). I had to assume he was probably a B-list celebrity of some description, 1) because I was in LA and 2) because he was decked out like a snazzy small-time star. i.e. flatteringly fitted camo pants, flatteringly fitted plain tee and a tipped newsboy cap with hair that, even covered by a stylish hat, was obviously well cut and coloured.

I later decided it was the haircut that threw me off, maybe with the added distraction of that ridiculously attractive set of buns. I spent the better part of my time at the gate trying to figure out who the heck this fella was.

It was upon feeling jealous of all the laptop nerds at my gate that I first realised I had thoughtlessly packed my laptop power cord in my checked baggage. Insert [several] expletives here. Bill Nighy's line in Love Actually springs to mind.


See 0:55 for referenced Billy Nighy's "Billy Mack" character line

Even so, I didn't necessarily think I'd be needing it much being that I was to fly out of LA momentarily and land in New York after a few short stopovers. No sweat... and no need for a laptop right?

My laptop battery is absolutely useless, so after half an hour of unsuccessfully attempting to pick up an unsecured wi-fi connection, I was almost out of charge. Reading was less fun than I usually find it, being squished into an uncomfortable seat in the overcrowded gate lounge. Miserable.

You can imagine then how truly thrilled I was to hear that my LA to San Francisco flight was delayed. Excellent. It was almost certain I would miss my connection from San Fran to Washington/Dulles, which basically guaranteed I would miss my Washington to New York connection too. Great. I approached the desk and explained this inevitable crisis and allowed my naivete to happily accept the United lady's instructions to board the flight and worry about my connection at the other end.

Big mistake. Big. HUGE.

I was momentarily distracted from my panic while finally boarding the aircraft: Hottie McNice-Ass and his company were directly in front of me. This allowed me to overhear his parents speaking in their obviously Australian accents and to see that Mr McNice-Ass was carrying a script. That narrowed down it down a bit: Australian actor with a small-time career in America.

I still couldn't quite knuckle it down but figured it was likely he was "Neighbours" or "Home & Away" alumnus. Neither show have ever been much to my liking, but still, I couldn't ever recall there being anyone remotely that attractive on either soapie. It was driving me crazy!

It turned out we were in the same row of the tiny plane, the second to last row no less. Hottie and his olds took up the three seats on one side while I was in one of the other three seats opposite. As I tried in vain to find space to stow my carry-on where there was none, the mystery man obviously noticed my peril and said "there's still space further back up, let me take it for you", which he did.

When he finally managed to wedge his way back to our corner of the plane he explained where he had squeezed my bag to which I responded with acknowledgement and thanks: "Oh! You're Australian, great!" he says, followed by other typical 'So we're from the same country' cliches. He eventually says "It's great meeting you, I'm Ryan".

Kwanten. Right. Now I've got it.


The new and improved version of Ryan I met





I was on the money: "Home & Away" star who has found some minor fame in The States on a TV series called "Summerland".


The cast of "Summerland", including Ryan, Zac and Jesse

I never knew the name of the show until looking it up just now, but I vaguely recalled seeing an episode of it randomly on TV once upon a time and noting "Yo, there's that Aussie guy on an American version of "Home & Away" with Jesse McCartney and a young Zac Efron". Another funny coincidence in hindsight, he's currently making it big on "True Blood". That damn show is stalking me.

I was now baffled not only by what a thoroughly lovely individual Ryan was, but also how he could possibly make such an enormous departure from the Vinnie character I knew him for. I had always found him dopey and ridiculous in the role, never mind unremarkably unattractive.


Ryan as Vinnie on "Home & Away"

I'm not one for being starstruck, so after a short conversation acknowledging that his faced seemed familiar and asking about how he's doing finding work in Hollywood, I had concluded I wouldn't have any further contact with him. Partly because I'm paranoid about coming across as starstruck with people like him. I won't deny I was intrigued as to what script he was studying the entire flight, but that's just the self-confessed film geek in me.

So it was Ryan who continued our shortlived friendship. So sweet a guy is he that he took the initiative to retrieve my luggage from where he'd put it, chatted our way off the plane, found me again five minutes later when I was walking in circles evidently stumped for what to do next, helped me find an airport staff member who could point me in the right direction, insisted on wheeling my carry-on all the way to the United Help Desk in Departures, then checked half a dozen times that I would be OK before parting company.

Celebrity or not, by far one of the loveliest gentleman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Seriously, just exquisite. His parents didn't bother to hide their obvious pride in him either, who wouldn't.

Henceforth, I will now become an avid fan of "True Blood" despite my cynicism that it's riding on the fame coat tails of "Twilight", just because I wish Ryan so well in everything he does now and in the future.


Ryan in "True Blood"

Maybe being starstruck would have been a good thing at this point, it might have made my panicked, starved, parched, full-bladdered 90 minute wait in line slightly more bearable. One lucky break I caught was that the lady behind me in the line was one of the few sane, mature people enduring the same experience, so after a few shared expressions of exasperation towards the procession of wankers complaining themselves blue in the face, I asked her if she'd mind holding my place in line while I made an urgent trip to the loo and found food and water.

We agreed we'd scratch each other's backs. Phew.

Being an unusually level-headed person that doesn't stress or worry much, I think it was somewhat more alarming to experience the levels of panic that I began to reach when the United representative told me there were next to no suitable flight options for me and that they were not responsible for putting me up overnight because technically the delay was Air Traffic Control's fault, not theirs.

With Camp America administration expecting my arrival in New Jersey, a mini-bus driven by my new boss containing several other international camp staff awaiting me and little to no money to my name (due my car being unsold and my inheritance not yet cleared) on which to thrive on for days without access to internet banking, I was pretty much packin' it.

The only flights United could offer would land me in New York City long after the Camp Fuller bus had departed. That and the very few other options they had on offer would require me to stay at least one or two nights in San Francisco on my own dime, which I had next to no budget for being that I had planned to be fed and put up by Camp America then Camp Fuller for the night and months ahead respectively.

That Billy Mack line comes to mind again.

To really add insult to injury, before taking some time away from the desk to make my decision, I asked where my luggage might be recovered. Recovered! Ha! I might not have made it to JFK Airport, but my luggage already had! If you think that's a joke, how about their system that denies you opportunity to make a Lost Baggage Claim until you've reached your final destination.

Nope, you can't start your claim report application at the airport you're stuck in for God knows how long. And no, you can't fill that paperwork out in any of the three airports they're giving you no choice but to layover in. No, ladies and gentleman, you have to wait the several days until you finally get to where you're going before you begin the long and arduous task of expecting them to make an effort to return your belongings to you.

Unbelievable.

Despite being on the brink of a meltdown, I decided that a call to the Camp America headquarters in New Jersey might bring some much-needed comfort. Expending who-knows-how-many quarters on the interstate phone call was the biggest waste of time I could possibly have ever imagined. Apparently Dopey McNo-Brains couldn't hear/understand me so he decided hanging up on me three times was the best solution.

As camp was not yet in session and it was drawing near the close of business for the day anyhow, there was naturally no answer at Camp Fuller either.

It was after looking at the premium prices for airport internet that I decided now was a pretty good time to dissolve into a puddle of tears. So I did.

Nobody seemed the least bit perturbed by my distress, thank goodness, I wouldn't want to be a burden on anyone. I wouldn't have wanted anyone to ask if I was OK, then they might have felt obligated to let me borrow their cell phone or to give me a few quarters to use. Swingin'!

Through streaming eyes I managed to find my way back to the overpriced internet stations, sit myself down, read the instructions, swipe my debit card, log in to my email and write an email copied to both Camp America and Camp Fuller explaining that neither would be seeing me any time soon.

Next I thanked my lucky stars that Big Sis had extensively educated me in The Ways Of Expedia and booked cheap accommodation at the San Francisco Airport Travelodge with a free airport shuttle.

This buoyed my confidence and helped me pull myself together. My usual strength and common sense followed and I was hit with an idea. My carefactor was zero that dozens of people in the help desk queue gave me the stinkeye as I directly approached my Case Manager at his counter, "OK, I need a flight direct to Providence". He didn't linger on his unhelpful, hindering attitude long after I stared him down and reiterated, "Providence is my only option, you cannot fly me to a city where I have no accommodation or transport to where I need to go, I will wait until you find a way to get me to Rhode Island".

And that he did.... while I hoped that Camp Fuller would be willing to come and pick me up when I finally made contact!

With my eyes and nose pink from crying, my flight booked, my tickets printed (yeah, there were three, one for each connection!) and pride in my heart, I marched my way out of Departures to the Arrivals terminal to find my free shuttle. Obviously you get what you pay for with cheap motels, the information on their site was incorrect, dialing #56 on the shuttle phone most definitely did not connect me with their Shuttle Request Line.

I was pretty much ready to deck somebody by the time I'd tried phoning five times, done four laps of Arrivals, walked up and down the shuttle bays and eventually found an indifferent shuttle marshall who told me booking was unnecessary, I just had to wait till one with "Travelodge" came along. I'm sure by that time I'd already missed four of the "Every 15 Minutes" opportunities.

The owner-manager of the motel was almost the lucky recipient of my desired decking when I discovered he not only wanted a bond in cash but also that their wi-fi was down. All I wanted to do at that point was lie down and not wake up again. I was broke, exhausted, scared, hungry, thirsty, hot and sticky and horribly lonely.


If I look sad, pathetic and lonely that's because I WAS!

My desperate desire to shower and sleep were outweighed by my desperate need to be comforted by my sister who I knew was regularly checking her email enough to know by that time that I was stranded and upset. After dumping my bag in my room and guzzling possibly a litre of water, I made the longest two hundred metre walk I've ever made to the nearby service station and procured a phone card.

Perhaps I should have called Jaime at Fuller prior to talking to my sister, because I pretty much fell apart the moment I heard Jenny's "Hi Cole". I had little credit to make both the call to Jenny and to Jaime, so the comfort was shortlived. We made arrangements to correspond via the overpriced internet in the motel foyer and I attempted to pull myself together enough to leave a voicemail at Fuller.

Jaime has never commented on the message I left, much to her credit. While I convinced myself at the time that I mostly covered my blubbering well during the hurried minute-long message, I highly doubt that was the case. I was a mess, I'm certain that was evident.

I think I managed to expel most of the necessary snot and tears by sobbing throughout my entire overlong shower. A dodgy cup of tea made with the crappy machine in my room and half an hour lying prostrate watching bad television was enough to get me back on my feet and around the corner to the semi-detached iHop behind the Travelodge office.

I officially now worship at the altar of iHop. It was there for me in my time of need. I completely understand the sentimentality featured in movies I've seen over the years:

It's a classic diner-type "meal-deal" family restaurant where the portions are oversized and the prices cheap.

As if I wasn't relieved enough to find an airconditioned, comfortable, uncrowded, quiet and homely place where I could buy a substantial amount of food for a low price, my waitress was like a Guardian Angel. The fact that her nametag told me her name was "Deb" wasn't the only reason she reminded me of my beloved faux-mum, short and squat and all warmth and kindness, I had to refrain from jumping up and giving her a hug.

She took better care of me than she needed to. Apart from being quick on the uptake and adding "sweetheart" to every sentence she addressed me with, she supplied me with ample conversation and kindness plus a free bottomless cup of tea despite it not being part of my four course dinner deal.

Four chapters of "Wuthering Heights" and $13.86 later I was full as a goog with food and drink to spare. Well fed and far more settled, I slept in as close to checkout as I possibly could with time to spare for a shower. I then spent my whole day hanging out in the Travelodge lobby, corresponding with Jaime and Jenny via expensive email, watching random television, finally properly getting into "Wuthering Heights" and demolishing over half of the puzzle book that I'm terribly grateful Steph put in my going-away package.

I appreciated another meal deal at iHop for dinner again and, starved for company as I was, had an extensive D&M with my favourite waitress. Upon discovered the details of my predicament, Deb confirmed she'd noticed how forlorn I was and that if she'd known my circumstances she'd have "taken me home with her for a homecooked meal and a comfy bed". So sweet!

Another free shuttle and a few more laps of San Fran airport and I was geekily hours too early for my plane. This didn't prevent me from jumpily checking and re-checking the flight board on more occasions than I'd wish to admit. My newbie senses were well worth it though, would you possibly believe that I was unlucky enough again that my gate changed without an announcement?

A quick sprint to the opposite end of Departures and I shotgunned the last good seat. I was thoroughly pleased until the announcement that this flight would now be delayed too. Nope, I'm not kidding, do I sound amused to you?

At least I'd learned my lesson after the San Fran Help Desk had informed me that I should never have boarded the original plane in LA, that United would have had to find me a new flight from there and it probably would have been a more direct and quick one too. I was prepared this time and my luck was looking up with a super helpful rep behind this gate counter. At first he ensured me the half an hour delay wouldn't impact on my connection given the ninety minutes I had upon arrival in Washington/Dulles.

But minutes later he called me back up and said he'd changed my flight to a shorter and safer connecting route so I could be guaranteed no further trouble. Another sprint to yet another corner of the airport and I was on an undelayed flight with only one layover in Chicago. It almost sounds pleasant when I put it that way, like disembarking an overlong, uncomfortable, overnight flight in Chicago airport at 5am and nodding off in a rock-hard gate lounge seat for seventy minutes before boarding the most abominable aircraft you'll ever see is an enjoyable experience.

I also elected to starve to death as a result of the most disgustingly overpriced airport food and drink in existence was my only option.

I actually teared up when the hostess's voice chimed "Welcome To Providence". Welcome indeed. I nearly hugged my neighbour but she already looked freaked out enough by the unexplained look of sheer delight I was wearing.

That quickly wore off when I received the memo that we were almost an hour late in landing and that the carry-on luggage they had forced all passangers to check in had been sent to the wrong carousel. That and the fact that I couldn't find the well-hidden, out-of-the-way Baggage Claim Office saw to my desire for knocking someone's lights out rearing its ugly head again.

I must have cut at least nine laps of the Arrivals terminal running between the area where the office was supposed to be, the understaffed enquiries desk, the carousel where I was waiting for my bag to appear and the carousel where my Camp Fuller chauffeur was no doubt waiting for me to appear.

I must have passed poor Alex a dozen times whilst walking in circles hunting down and collecting my carry-on bag, getting directions from the enquiries desk, finding the Baggage Claim Office, making my report and eventually awkwardly making eye contact with the bearded young guy in a bright yellow shirt who appeared to have been stalking me for the entire time.

I blame Alex for not sporting something obviously "Camp Fuller" or waving a dorky sign with my name on it or something.

In his defence, Alex is also a noob at Fuller (i.e. no old Staff shirts to throw on) and got little to no notice of being sent on a chauffeur mission to wait for the hopeless Aussie that missed the bus she was supposed to be on in the first place. He explained that the bright yellow shirt was his way of standing out.

And at long last, my blog has finally arrived at my current destination: Camp Fuller, Rhode Island.

Next up, find out what greeted me at the end of the awkward car ride with two Fuller Noobs: one who wasn't aware for 95% of the trip that he was transporting a Key Staff Member and hence spoke to his passenger as if she were to be regular Counselor and the other who had lost her luggage and was completely shattered having just spent the better part of the last 48 hours on planes, panicked, stressed, tired, frightened and lonely.

P.S. If you'e surprised by the lack of the lack of photos in this post then you need to take a long hard look at the one photo I did take then ask yourself why.

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Day 10: From Johnny To Julia

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: June 9, 2009 (USPDT)

So many of my Facebook Friends will recall that at this particular time I was agonising over how to spend one of my final nights in LA as I had gotten myself stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Rock = Blink182 Rooftop Concert at Jimmy Kimmel Live that I had booked a ticket for days before

Hard Place = Julia Stiles' play "Oleanna"

I had been wanting to go to Jimmy Kimmel Live regardless but had been thrilled when I researched tickets and found he was having one of his rare rooftop specials. With Blink no less, a somewhat legendary band of our era and a band that had somewhat been on hiatus for some time prior to this regrouping. I'm not much of a Blink fan, never really was, but it sounded like a pretty fantastic opportunity. I was really looking forward to it.

But then, somehow I can't remember, I came across "Oleanna". I really can't recall how the play came to my attention, I feel like my sister had something to do with it, but by the time I knew about it my only options to see it were this Tuesday night or the Wednesday night.

As I was leaving Wednesday night open for other plans, I had no choice but to choose one or the other for this night.

Arriving back at my room from WB late on the Monday afternoon, I met my new group of roomies. First I met Lisa, 26, from England who was off to a Summer Camp in Massachusetts she had been working at for several years. Tops! We bonded over camp anticipation and sucky American deoderant. She was also impressed by my knowledge of the Hollywood turf and requested I help her out with some tourism.

Lisa exited to do some washing and minutes later the Aussie Fraser sisters entered. Also off to a Summer Camp on the East Coast, Felicity, Billie and Carissa also contributed some excellent bonding: add Twilight, Harry Potter and general cultish obsessions this time. They also expressed interest in my Hollywood experience.

Lisa returned and all five of us had our own little "Woohoo Camp!" party while making plans to tourist together the next day, as I said, with me at the helm!

The girls weighed in on my difficult choice: useless, it was a dead heat. 2 and 2. It was at this point that you Facebookers would have been casting your votes in response to my posted agony.

Which brings me to the events of this day's post: Tourist Tuesday.

We ate our free continental breakfast together down in the Tiki Garden and tried to convince Lisa to have some vegemite on toast while I made my final decision on how I would spend my Tuesday night: Julia had it.

After having received important votes from key people such as Nikki, Deb and Sister Jen, I opposed the shunning of the Blink fans and rationalised that I'd never have a chance to see Oleanna again, whereas not only would Jimmy and Blink still be there in the future, but I could probably watch it later on YouTube anyhow.

I phoned and booked a ticket with epic enthusiasm then hit the road with Camp Party.

As I had told the girls previously, there would be a movie filming right outside the hostel this day, as per a notice posted by the production on the hostel notice board. I've completely forgotten the name of this b-grade production, but we hung around as long as we possibly could without looking foolish. All we really saw was the catering tent and a heap of equipment, it was too early in the day to see any real action. I'm pretty sure they filmed at the little Thai restaurant though.

Then off to Tourist Central it was!

We strolled down Hollywood Boulevard, stopping in stores and snapping photos aplenty. I showed the girls all my favourite spots and pointed out Kyra's brand spanking new Star.

Eventually we landed in The Highlands block where I pointed out all the best Hands & Feet at Grauman's, bragged about seeing a movie there, showed them the best souvenir shop (where we spent a substantial amount of time obsessing), laughed at the characters dressed up, then headed into The Highlands shopping plaza itself.

One thing I had missed previously, the Star Trek square, I hadn't seen the sweet plaque and the sheer size of it on my other visits:

I was thrilled that my party were as hyped by Johnny Rockets as I was. We agreed to eat lunch there, much to my satisfaction. Choosing what to eat was an adventure in itself. We took ridiculous amounts of ridiculous photos and gratefully accepted silly hats from our waiter. A total hoot all in all!

I was again ecstatic that my company appreciated Hot Topic as much as I did. The girls weighed in again: I purchased the coveted Transformers tank. Sweeeeeet!

Our shopping and touristing was extensive. A totally great day had by all.

Lisa left us to meet a friend and us Aussies crossed the road to Disney's Soda Fountain. I entered with my girls back home close to my heart. In spite of not being much of a Disney enthusiast myself, I had a blast looking at all the merchandise and taking photos to show my Disney Fan girls. I wanted to buy them all three of everything.

I had to leave my party behind at this point and head back to get ready for my much-anticipated Julia play.

Metro.Net didn't fail me, I managed to walk-bus-walk my way to Downtown LA's "Walt Disney Music Center", to the "Mark Taper Forum" specifically.

The plaza encased by the Mark Taper Forum and the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was a beautiful place to sit and chill while waiting for the show to start:

Watching my budget closely, I gave the fancy al fresco cafe a miss and just grabbed a quick bite from the little snack shop. I sat myself on a pretty little park bench nearby the valet parking and watched all the rich people arrive at the fancy Music Center. I listened to a table of middle-aged women gripe about their overpaid husbands and exhausting lives of parties and cotilions. One of these women was currently facing a terrible difference of opinion with her spouse: to use the seventh bedroom in their brand new custom home as a study or a second guest room. Oh peril!

After the copious amounts of heavy food we'd put away at lunch, my iced tea and apple were not in the least bit disappointing. A detox, I'd go as far as to say. What I wasn't prepared for was for my beverage to karma harassing me. I look down at my glass bottle at one point only to find it shouting at me "For good karma, recycle!".

So abrupt! If I wanted a karma bashing or an environmental lecture I'd have asked, thanks.

The inanimate object redeemed itself with the trivia under the lid though. We all know I love any variety of good fart humour, well, my lid informed me of the origin of the term "Bronx Cheer". A term I'd previously learned from the print on Whoopee Cushions but never truly understood. Love it.

Another highlight of the evening was the saxophone busker. He stood there and played his heart out like there was no tomorrow. I was completely captivated by him. I was thinking of you Deb.

Finally, it was almost showtime. I managed to snap some illegal photos of the stage, a-teehee!

While I will save a specific review of the play for its own post, I wonder if words can describe how absolutely phenomenal this experience was for me and how unbelievably brilliant this performance was. By far a highlight of my entire trip as a whole, I don't doubt.

For now I'll just say: wow, kudos Julia and Bill.

I'll also continue not to hold back the depth of my dorkishness and confess to what a thrill it was to see such a talented celebrity in the flesh. To see her but a number of metres away, doing what she does best.... just, wow. It was a buzz I can't articulate. And that's saying something! LOL.

I decided to go all out with my obsesso-geek tourism and go round to the stage door afterwards. Expecting the typical spectacle of such a thing, I was confounded that nobody was back there waiting. Sure, plenty of you are just thinking "yes, that's because you're a loser Nicole", but I care not. I've done this sort of thing before, I literally cannot believe nobody was interested.

Eventually a teenage guy and his parents joined me and I overheard their conversation about the boy going to school with Bill Pullman's son and that Bill had invited them along during their sons' graduation the night before. Sure enough, Bill came out a short while later and welcomed them inside.

Yep, you're damn right I grabbed an autograph and photo. He was lovely and incredibly warm. Handsome too, for an old fella. Haha.

I asked the lady inside the stage door if Julia would be coming out soon. She said she should be and that she'd let her know she had a visitor. I didn't care at all that I looked like a loser, I was going to get to meet one of my favourite actors.

I literally cannot believe my bad luck: a while later the stage door lady came back out and apologised that Julia must have already left through the side door. She told me that this never happens, Julia often stays around to hang out backstage and that she had only left in a hurry because she had "commitments".

The next part just rubbed salt in the wound, Stage Door Lady told me that Julia never has people wait at the door for her and that she knows Julia would have been thrilled and most definitely would have come out to chat and take a photo. I would have much preferred to hear that Julia always rushes off quickly and that she most likely wouldn't have bothered to come out anyway.

The whole thing was clarified the next day too: Chris told me that he'd seen Julia on the TV on an early morning breakfast show giving an interview about "Oleanna".

What are the odds?! Dang and bollocks. Big, BIG bollocks!

But still, I'm just happy to have had the chance to see such a profound work of art and to have such a great story to tell in the future. Not to mention that Jen is an even bigger fan of Julia than me so I'm glad to give her the experience vicariously through me!

As a sidenote: I am super proud of myself for finding my way around LA. I won't deny that walking around Downtown LA late at night to find my return bus and walking from the bus to the hostel was a wee bit on the freaky side, but I did it... without getting lost or even going for a bumsteer. I have not only conquered public transport, but foreign navigation too!

I couldn't have done it without the sheer luck of a second unit filming crew being on the sidewalk filming pacing shots. Not only did they help point me in the right direction, but one of them was also an Aussie guy that grew up in the Blue Mountains. Small world.

The gathering of cats behind the bus stop was a tad on the freaky side too.

So standby for my next post, dedicated solely to raving about my awesome celebrity theatre expeience and the wonders of Julia Stiles.

P.S. As usual, extra pics in my Flickr for the enthusiasts (of the Disney kind especially).

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Day 7: Scratching An Itch At Sid's

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: June 6, 2009 (USPDT)

Before I could get down to the business of fulfilling an important geeky desire, there was yet more Campbound work to do. Trying to book flights and generally organise my arrival on the East Coast was made rather difficult with both Camp America and Camp Fuller enjoying their weekend.

A sleep in and the above travel frustrations behind me, Kieran and I locked in our Scratch: Seeing a film at Grauman's Chinese Theater.

For those that live under a rock and/or those that are plain boring, Grauman's is the home of Hollywood's biggest premieres and the scene of the renowned cement "Hands & Feet" forecourt. Grauman's is directly alongside "The Highlands" plaza and the Kodak Theater, home of The Oscars, and opposite Hooters, Jimmy Kimmel Live, The Disney Soda Fountain and the El Capitan cinemas.

We didn't just see any film either, it was finally time: Terminator Salvation.

We pointed and laughed at a heap of costumed characters and Kieran got his fill of Hands & Feet photos before we excitedly proceeded like 2nd Graders on Christmas to the Box Office to buy our tickets. And yes, we didn't mind looking silly and exposing our ignorance by asking exactly what entrance we were supposed to use.

It's not altogether a daft question! You have this almighty huge fancy entrance that is walked by hundreds of stars on an annual basis, it's not completely ridiculous to wonder if nobodies enter the cinema that way on a regular day. Sheesh.

The Christmas behaviour naturally didn't stop at the Box Office. We giggled and starry-eyed our way into the cinema itself and snapped more photos than was really necessary. We couldn't have the "Oh my gosh stars have sat in these seats!" conversation only once, of course, we flogged that dead horse.















I'm thoroughly stoked that Kieran isn't only your typical run-of-the-mill geek, but an all out obsesso-geek of the highest order, because watching the "Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Prince" trailer with any less of a geek would have just been downright disappointing. I had no shame in responding to the opening of the trailer like a small explosion because Kieran did too. We then did our best "Dude, Where's My Car?" impersonation by turning to each other giggly and wide-eyed afterwards and mirror-imaging: "Sweeeeeet!"

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, the Potter phenomenon was pretty much the highlight of the actual theatrical experience. The fourth Terminator instalment was a major let down.

While Salvation was impressively made and mindblowingly epic in proportions, the story was completely without. The plot was pretty much absent and the acting underwhelming. I hate to say this of any of my Favourites, but it's basically a fact. I'm not entirely bagging it out, it was quality enough and not a total raspberry. I didn't hate it. It just disappointed my deep fandom and high expectations.

On the up side of a disappointing instalment in a favourite series that revealed absolutely nothing and added no value to a brilliant story: the casting of Kyle Reese was genius, Christian Bale was perfectly suited (despite being a far cry from Nick Stahl's John Connor), Sam Worthington made me a proud Aussie and was surprisingly attractive and the special effects were gobsmacking.

Lucky Kieran and I are such a pair of obsesso-geeks and held high on Harry, it was the only thing that got us through the 4 false alarm endings.

With designs on showers and disco naps, we parted ways temporarily and returned to our respective sister hostels before Band Night fired up at my Banana Bungalow later.












Self Portrait of a Doofus: Waiting for the bus coz I'm too lazy to walk the 15 minute walk when it costs $1.25 to bus it

I watched Kieran get flogged at a fierce game of Beer Pong before realising I was famished and heading over to a Chris-recommended American version of a Kebab Shop where I had the most awesome wrap-kebab-thing I've ever eaten. Not bad for a little hole in the wall.

It should be mentioned that this was the first time I was hungry enough to lay down my pride and ask the difference between "sandwiches" and "burgers" and the suchlike. This aspect of America is all messed up. A sandwich is never deli-like contents contained by two pieces of average loaf-bread. It's really more of a wrap-kebab-thingy.

Got it? Don't worry, I'm still workin' on it too. I won't even get started on "kebabs".

The band were A.M. Obscene (check the play on words). I had been quite chuffed with my choice of describing them as "Lenny Kravitz meets Motley Crue" when I decided to create the preceding link and found that this comparison had already been stolen by some obnoxious review they've posted on their MySpace blog. Criminal! I've missed my calling.

The lead singer was super cool and stuck around to chat and chill afterwards. Kieran got a CD, thanks goodness, coz I woulda been stumped for the name of the band at this point had I not been able to hit him up on Facebook.

The following day, Sunday, has a little more excitement to share. Again, maybe it'll just be Nikki and I that get excited about my geek-out musical equivalent of Grauman's....

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