I thought I would elaborate on yesterday's Facebook status:
I went on an all-out Denzel Washington manhunt. I was sitting in my desk, minding my own business, when Tommy (one of my mentors) asked if I liked Denzel. Who doesn't like Denzel? But why was he asking?
"He's upstairs right now."
He pointed to the TV. There he was, Denzel Washington, in all of his handsome, philanthropic glory, speaking at a Boy and Girls Club press conference being held a few floors up. For those of you who don't remember, I'm lucky enough to work in the Nation Press Building in Washington D.C. Apparently, celebrity-graced events happen here on occasion.
I grabbed my camera and caught an elevator and headed to the 13th floor. No sign. No gaggle of desperate women. No Denzel to be seen. I didn't want to reek of awkward starstruck girl, so I pretended like I had some legitimate reason to be there and walked around with an air of feigned concentration.
Found the conference room. Empty.
It must not have been airing live.
However, I am no fool. I could tell he was still somewhere around. I have a sense for these things (or so I've decided, after this one incident).
There were official Boys and Girls Club people wandering about everywhere. Buff security guards walking the floors. I saw a glamorous lady get her picture taken with what looked like... a friend? A fan? I couldn't tell. I wanted to take a picture in case she turned out to be of any significance, but felt strange taking a picture of two women taking a picture and abandoned the idea...
I sat on a couch Denzel would inevitably have to walk by (so I convinced myself) for about 15 minutes. Before long, it seemed like all the B&GC reps were giving me the stink eye. I took a hint and shuffled off. As I was headed toward the elevator, I saw the aformentioned glamorous lady standing with what appeared to be some family members and a body guard.
Who IS she? She looked super familiar, but I couldn't place her for the life of me. Any doubts of her celebrity status were erased as soon as they all began to cater to her, asking she'd like to sit to rest her feet. She did. I walked right past her at this point. I kept staring at her, trying and trying to figure out who she was. She kept looking at me too, as if waiting for me to ask to take a picture. (My camera was in hand.)
Part of me wanted to ask, but I was so afraid she'd respond: "Are you a fan?" and follow up with: "What's your favorite movie/song/book of mine?" so I talked myself out of it.
Let it be known: I could have TOUCHED HER. I was within arm's reach.
(Side note: How sad is it that I would have felt special to bump into a celebrity whose name or work I didn't even know?)
After getting off the elevator onto my ninth floor home, I SPRINTED in my two-inch heels to the office to ask: "WHICH FAMOUS LADY WAS HERE TOO?" so that I could run back up and claim "butterflies" the first time around and get a picture with her.
No one knew.
Tommy went up with me. She was gone. Bummer. We then walked around to see if there was any available intel on the Denzel location. A B&GC lady told us: "He's in an interview. It'll be awhile." She wouldn't say where, when, or for how long, so after Tommy went back to the office, I went to the main floor to see if his limo was still there. It wasn't, but in its place were three identical (minus the state each license plate was registered in) SUV's.
He was definitely still in the building.
I sat on that lonely 13th floor couch for another 35 minutes. I finally threw up the white flag after once again succumbing to awful glares. Fate was not on my side. I was not meant to meet Denzel (yet).
I'm over it.