Celebrity Crush Sighting

Sandy's cultural event #8 (#7 was wine country)
Anthony Bourdain lecture and book signing

This was one of my favorite "cultural events" EVER. Of my whole life. Other than that Bowie concert in 2002, this was the only time I've seen a celebrity crush in person. (Jason Schwartzman doesn't count because that wasn't a prolonged crush, just a brief fascination.) And like David Bowie, Tony Bourdain is even better in the flesh!! (Sorry our camera sucks so hard and you can't really tell how hot he is.)

I insisted on showing up two hours early to the Heathman Hotel, which meant 4:30 for a 6:30 appearance. Go figure that even though the hotel was expecting 600 fans to show up, they didn't schedule the event in an actual banquet/meeting room, but in the "tea court," which is a modest-sized dining room with a smattering of upholstered chairs facing every-which-way and a bunch of thick, wooden beams with view-blocking potential. No stage. No additional chairs. No common sense.

After sitting in the bar for about a half-hour twiddling our thumbs and observing all the other Tony fans (including a mid-forties female who was braless... wonder who she's trying to impress?), Marc suggested I go see if they were allowing people into the tea court yet. Apparently they had been for some time! I spotted the last two available chairs-- way over in a corner-- and asked the stately-looking couple sitting at the table if I could sit down. They obliged. The four of us ended up hitting it off swimmingly, downing quite a few Gin and Tonics, and doing Larry David impressions while waiting for the lecture to begin. (Maya, they remind me a lot of your parents. I think we're having dinner with them next week.)

As we sat sucking back our cocktails, the tea court began to fill waaaay past fire code capacity. A crowd hovered on the 2nd floor above us, people sat on the stairwell, and we had no idea when/where Tony might appear. Then, out of the din, a roar of applause. I jumped to my feet to see Tony directly in front of me, holding court on the stairwell. If it weren't for the 6'4" imbecile sidling up to me to block my view every 3 minutes, I would've had the perfect vantage point from which to ogle the T-man. And wouldn't you know it, the imbecile also had B.O.

No matter. Tony was charming, gracious, witty... everything you'd expect him to be. Once the hotel finally cut the ambient pan flute music, he read a selection from his new book wherein he totally dissed gastro-pubs, and then opened the floor for questions. He was awesome. When asked what rock star, living or dead, he'd like to cook for, Tony replied, "Keith Richards... he's a little bit of both isn't he?" and then laughed delightedly at his own funny. The man can think on his feet. When asked whether he came to Portland for the microbrews, he said "You know, what's wrong with a Guinness or Heineken? They got it right years ago. Plus, I don't trust hippies to make my beer." Hippie-bashing has never been sexier.

Our lucky tablemates had tickets to the long-ago-sold-out dinner, so they were treated to even more of Tony's company. Meanwhile, Marc and I went to a pub called Blue Moon and tried their sliders (a.k.a. mini-burgers. When I said sliders the waiter gave me the crook eye.) Better than White Castle, I tell ya! And definitely no snooty gastronomic abomonations like "snowpea froth" on the bar menu-- Tony would approve.