Wrap Party -- Wednesday January 28

with Theresa at the Wrap Party

The scene is a new, trendy bar on the corner of Hollywood & La Brea. The group gathered to celebrate this evening is the cast and crew of Beach Movie, celebrating, as far as I can tell, the completion of the ground-breaking film. Spirits are high, drinks flow freely, and there are no planes flying over the bar every two minutes. Things are good.

And so, here's my tale from the Beach Movie wrap party... I brought a friend of mine, Rachel Reenstra, with me as my "date." She spends most of the event mingling with the party-goers and other patrons of the club. I run into her some time in the middle of the evening and she immediately regales me with, "Oh my God, I've just been invited over to this table. You've got to come over and sit with me. I was talking to this guy at the door and I didn't know who he was and we were just chatting for like twenty minutes and now he wants me to come over and sit at his table with him."

I cut right to the chase, "Well, who is it?"

"He's a basketball player. Wilt Chamberlain."

First thought: "Wilt the Stilt Chamberlain? And she had no idea? That's Hollywood for you. You never know who you're going to run into."

Second thought: "Twenty thousand and one!" My dear little innocent friend, Rachel Reenstra, is about to join the largest women's group in America, the Former Love Partners of Wilt Chamberlain. So great American hero that I am, I accompany Rachel over to Wilt's table. (Yeah, I call him Wilt.) No sooner do we get there and receive the drinks that he has so generously purchased for us, but Rachel leaves! She just gets up and walks away. And who does that leave at the table? John Ducey and Wilt Chamberlain. Perfect. I strike up a bit of a conversation. What's he up to these days? How's his golf game? How was woman number 10,473? That kind of lame bullshit. Finally a couple of my friends wander over and sit on the other side of me and I engage them in a bit of the same witty repartee. Wilt is joined by his lawyer buddy so I feel he's not longing for my attention.

A few minutes pass and I am tapped on the shoulder by a friendly employee of our establishment. He informs me, "I'm sorry, but I have to save the rest of this table."

"I'm sorry?"

"The rest of the table is saved so you can't sit there."

Now, although this was not the most gracious exit I have ever made, I can't say that I was aching to stay at the table. Wilt and I did not seem to have all that much in common and though we had forged a bond, it seemed that we were drifting apart and it was really better to end it all right there. And so I left. As I was returning to friendly waters, I passed our server and tried to flag her down. She said, "I'm sorry. They asked us to pull the table. I'll be right back." Alas, the table had been pulled. I'll have to remember that one next time I'm on a date that's not going very well. Just get the management to pull the table. It's neat and clean. No need to get your hands dirty. Just pull it.

For the rest of the evening, when I wasn't busy rubbing elbows with the over-7-foot set, I talked with Theresa and Tony and with Rachel, of course, and was even sought out by Victoria. She was as bubbly and lively as ever. She recently completed work on BASEketball, which, if you have read other pages on this site, you will be familiar with. I had my share of the free drinks and eventually corralled Rachel from the arms of the NBA and wrapped myself.

Beach Movie | Ducey on Film | Resume