Illustration by Cécile MancionAs predicted, watching the Golden Globes on Sunday did exactly what I thought it would; made me feel fat, ugly, poor and unaccomplished but what it also did was inspire me to run that extra 15 minutes on the treadmill and stay for the "Thigh Melt" class when I so wanted to go home and make a soy café au lait. So I guess some good came out of watching celebrities dripping in diamonds doing that annoying thing where they cock their heads back and fake laugh once they realize that the camera has panned on them.
Watching the pre-show red carpet footage, I was surprised to see Maroon 5 lead singer Adam Levine in his little tuxedo at the show since the Globes are exclusively for film and television. But because I have been living under a rock
Picture it. Casino de Paris. March 2010.
It was almost two weeks after MF ended things and I was staying at my (now former) friend Karoline's apartment near Bastille until I sorted out my situation. My nights were sleepless where I was kept awake from the sound of my own thoughts bouncing through my head as well as the sound of crying mice who were caught in the mouse trap behind the loveseat that was my bed. I look back on these days as being a cold, silent and sad haze, except for one night.
Karoline had come home from work and handed me a ticket that her boss had given her to see Maroon 5 the following night at the Casino de Paris. She was unable to go because her mother was coming in from Michigan and we both thought that it would lift my spirits to go see an American band in Paris.
Looking forward to my date with myself, I got as dolled up as I could, trying to merchandise the few things that I grabbed in haste from my apartment with MF and arrived at the Casino de Paris in the 9th long before the show started. I regretted not bringing the book that I had started and wondered how I was going to pass time until the show started. It wasn't until I saw the holy grail, the solution to everything, that I knew I was going to be just fine for at least an hour; a champagne bar. That's what I love about France, a glass of real champagne is always a reasonable request. If I asked for a glass of bubbly at a New York rock club, I shudder to think what would be served to me. White wine with a splash of club soda? Most likely.
I took down two glasses of champagne on an empty stomach and saw absolutely nothing wrong in escorting myself backstage. In French, with my thick New York accent, I told the bouncer that I was with the band and can only assume that he just didn't want to deal with me because he let me in. Liquid courage at its finest.
What? I was in? How was I in? I felt like Penny Lane in...ok, that's exaggerating, I felt like William, the little boy in Almost Famous.
The spirit backstage was alive with roadies and managers who were breezing in and out of walkways and talking in headsets to get ready for the show. I planted myself at the backstage bar before anyone noticed that I didn't have a pass and sipped on a complimentary glass of red wine.
After burdening the bartender with my heartbreak woes, he was quickly rescued by the excitement of the band who came in with an entourage to take photos with sponsors, guests and VIPs. Laughing along with the crew as if I was so "in", I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. Oh shit. This was it, now I was going to get kicked out, I thought. I gulped down the last of my wine before turning around to see their tour manager looking at me. "Do you want your photo taken with the band?" he asked. Oh, well I wasn't expecting that. "Yes." I responded, scared that if I had said no, he would ask to see credentials. I jumped down from the bar stool and realized that I was a little more drunk than I had thought and stumbled towards one of America's biggest bands staring back at me.
"Bonjoooooooour, Maroon Cinq!" I said holding up my wine glass like an ass. I didn't know what else to say or why I was speaking French to these Southern California boys. I guess, heartbreak makes us do mysterious things. There was silence from the band who just stared back at me, so clearly, I continued. "Les américaines sont ici!". Silence. Hmmm, ok. "My boyfriend dumped me and I'm heartbroken?" I finally surrendered with which then triggered a round of cheers and we all huddled in for the least cool photo in rock history. Their "groupie" had one eye open, purple teeth from the red wine and am inching close to Adam like a total nerd, as if we're friends from way back.
As I was about to exit backstage and watch the show with other concert goers, I figured I had gone this far and wanting to channel my newly acquired inner Band-Aid status, decided to watch the show from the side of the stage in the hopes of blending in with the other Victoria Secret models. You don't need me to tell you that I stuck out like a sore thumb.
After jamming out to "Misery" - the official song of my break-up - like someone who has nothing to lose, the tour manager who at this point grew suspicious at who this weird girl was came back wanting to know who I was there with. I knew it, now I was so going to get busted, kicked out and arrested. I was ready to confess to my rouse but before I could, my alter-ego for the evening blurted "Sara Bareilles!" she said, "I'm with Sara Bareilles!". I lied and told him that I was with the opening act Sara Bereilles who I then had to hide from behind the "sound guy" when she was hanging out at the side of the stage before her duet with the band.
I made it throughout the entire show without getting kicked out and/or arrested and did what all girls do when they've just gotten their hearts broken and dragged through the mud - get drunk and have fucking fun! Even if I was alone...
On my way home on the metro, I texted the photo to Kitty who at the time was growing worried but grew less upon seeing me with my new "friends" Maroon 5 and posted it on facebook. Within minutes, I got a nasty text from MF who saw my tag, asking what the hell was I doing and accused me of moving on - with Maroon 5. What an idiot.
It was the first time I had laughed in weeks and at the time I had no idea that it was also going to be one of the last times in months but all I can say ladies is posing next to Adam Levine to show your ex that there are other fish in the sea - fucking priceless.
