Oh my gosh! Josh and I just had a star sighting here in Dubai! Now, Josh, being a former resident of Los Angeles, was not as overtly uncool as, say, I was when I stage whispered to him, "Oh my God...that's Tommy Lee. Seriously! I think it's Tommy Lee! Wait, maybe it's not. Holy crap! It IS. That's freaking Tommy Lee!" and stared googley eyed at the skinny rocker dude with bright red highlighted hair.
You see, it's Bike Week here in Dubai, and, as luck (or lack of luck) would have it, it's taking place about a block away: loud Harleys, really loud music and all that's good and bad about biker dudes and dudettes descending on a place. And Tommy Lee, of Mötley Crüe fame, of being married to Pamela Anderson fame, and, um, of other things fame... Tommy Lee is hosting the event, which, around these parts, we find pretty exciting. Or maybe I just find it pretty exciting. In any event...
It all began earlier this morning. The bands started their sound checks around 10:30 a.m., as many of my colleagues and I were fighting our way though stacks of grading. (Puddle of Mudd certainly puts one in the mood for grading literary criticism...or not.) As students met with me during my office hours to discuss their essays, my attention—and theirs—seemed split between our (fascinating) conversation about essay structure and the music we could hear coming from Bike Week preparations at Media City. While out of my mouth came sage words of writing advice, in my mind: dreams of Tommy Lee. Is that him on the drums right now? I wonder if he'll play any Mötley Crüe songs tomorrow? ("I'm on my wa-a-ay / Just set me fre-e-e-e, / home / sweet / home.") But Vince Neil wouldn't be there to sing, so it wouldn't really be the same. And I'm sure there must be some legal restrictions. "I'm sorry, Khalid. What was your question about your essay?"
Come lunch time, I was ready to get off campus and get a yummy "I-survived-the-school-week" bagel at Media City with my handsome husband...and maybe catch some of the sound checks. (This is a fun way to hear the acts that come to Media City without the hassle of buying tickets and standing in crowds. I've heard Pink Floyd, Toto, and some of the Dubai Jazz Festival this way. I think it's a little more fun. And I'm a sucker for behind the scenes.)
So we head over, but can't go our normal route across the bridge because it's blocked off for Bike Week. I'm annoyed, but, whatever; we head the long way around the person-made lake separating AUD from Media City.
And then: divine intervention.
We see a gold Hummer about 20 feet away, and from it emerges a bunch of people in black. They're walking towards us, looking important, looking entourage-like, with one in the middle looking like, yes, TOMMY FREAKING LEE! Stage whispering ensues. I get all flustered. Josh "I've-lived-in-LA-and-this-is-SO-not-a-big-deal" is like, "Liz, stars are just people." I know, I know, but what if he saw me? I wonder where he's staying? I wonder what he had for lunch? Does he like bagels?
"How would you like it if people were like ‘whisper, whisper, whisper' when they saw you?"
"I'll worry about that when the time comes," I say. "In the meantime, I'm giving myself permission to be star struck."
"You're going to go crazy when we go to LA this summer."
The man is absolutely right. I will be a bonafide freak. I can't wait. In the meantime, though, I'm going to step outside onto our balcony, and listen to the drumming of the one, the only, Tommy Lee. |
