Danny, the Calistoga Bottle, and Me

Ever since the Danny DeVito incident of 1995, I'm not allowed to approach celebrities. My family and friends forbid it. When I saw Richard Grieco at Whole Foods, I could do nothing but admire him from afar. When I spotted a young Neil Patrick Harris at the Blockbuster, I had to wait outside until he made his selection and left the store. I'm not some crazed stalker, just a fan. I find celebrities interesting, compellingly beautiful. I am mesmerized by their presence. It was Danny DeVito who caught my eye one warm summer afternoon in 1995, at a matinee performance of Beauty and the Beast. He, his wife, and about five little girls were there. And so was I.

"Look , it's Louie from Taxi!" whispered the kid sitting next to me. Louie from Taxi? Who the heck is Louie from Taxi? Did he mean Louie from Texas? And why was this kid so concerned that I know Louie from Texas? I pondered this for a bit - Louie from Taxi, Louie from Texas - when all of a sudden, it hit me. Louie! From Taxi! The great Danny DeVito was in the house! I turned to my left and saw him, not more than three feet away - Danny DeVito in all his glory. We made eye contact. I gasped. Danny DeVito gasped. He quickly spun on his heel and walked away. I rose from my seat, determined to follow.

"Leave. The. Celebrity. Alone." A death grip landed on my shoulder and my husband's voice hissed in my ear.

"But," I sputtered. "But, but..."

"He's with his family," hissed my husband. "Leave him alone or we'll leave."

I slumped back in my seat. The kid sitting next to me gave me a pitiful glance.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I said brightly. Reluctantly, my husband released his death grip.

"Go straight to the Ladies Room and come right back, no bothering Danny DeVito!"

I nodded agreeably, and dashed out to the lobby in search of Danny DeVito. As I passed the Ladies Room, I felt a pang of guilt. If I tried hard enough, I'm sure I could conjure up some urine. I stopped, went in, and queued up.

Seconds later, a woman opened the door and got in line behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and froze. Rhea Perlman! I could not let this moment pass without acknowledging it somehow. Granted, it was much more thrilling for me to be lined up for the toilet with Rhea Perlman, than it was for Rhea Perlman to be lined up for the toilet with me, but I felt we had an opportunity to make something of the moment. After all, my husband only said not to bother Danny DeVito, he didn't say anything about Rhea Perlman. I thought about what I could possibly say to her.

About this time, I realized that Rhea Perlman is a great-smelling person. And I happen to think that when someone smells great, you should tell them. So I turned around, smiled and said, "You smell great."

Rhea Perlman apparently either already knows she smells great, or it is a real faux pas to tell a woman that she smells great when she happens to be standing in line to use a public toilet. I hopped into a stall, took care of things, and then sped out of the Ladies Room, hoping that Danny DeVito was still in the lobby.

I spotted him right away. He was drinking a Calistoga water, with essence of lime, from the bottle. He stood by himself, occasionally checking his watch. After a few minutes, he spotted an elderly woman sitting in a comfy chair nearby. He approached, introduced himself and shook her hand. Then, he put down the empty Calistoga water bottle.

When the Calistoga water bottle hit the table, something came over me. I had to have that empty bottle. I was too far away to casually reach for it; I would have to walk at least 30 feet across the crowded lobby to get it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone move. I turned just in time to see one of the bartenders making his way to the Calistoga bottle. Game on.

I made a bee-line for the table. The bartender, sensing my urgency, picked up his pace. I glared at him. He glared back. We both started to trot. He was taller than me, with long perfect legs like all young men in Los Angeles seem to have. There was no way I was going to get that Calistoga bottle. Desperation came over me. The bartender smirked. I lunged for the bottle.

Now, the problem with matinee performances is that they attract a lot of kids. Every where you turn, there are kids running all over the place. In my quest to get Danny DeVito's Calistoga water bottle, I neglected to notice that there was a small child in my path. As I leaped for the Calistoga water bottle, a little boy stopped dead in his tracks and assumed the pose of a tiny Bruce Lee.

"Hi- YA!" he shouted as he karate-chopped my crotch.

I stumbled backwards, silently thanking God that I didn't have any boy parts to injure. I checked the bartender. I could still make it, I could still claim victory away from him. Then, I slipped on my heel and hit the floor, smacking my bum. Hard. The bartender swooped up the Calistoga water bottle and hustled it into the trashcan behind the bar. The mother of the little Bruce Lee helped me up, apologizing profusely. Danny DeVito, apparently unaware of the commotion his discarded Calistoga water bottle caused, collected his children and his wife, and sauntered back to the orchestra seating area.

With my dignity barely intact, I made my way to the bar. The bartender immediately plopped down a Calistoga water, plain, and poured it in a glass over ice.

"On the house," he said.

"Well played," I said, tipping him a dollar. "Can I have Danny DeVito's empty Calistoga water bottle?"

"No," he said. "Sorry. It's against policy."

I drank my water and hobbled back into the orchestra seating area, where my anxious husband waited. I confessed that I spoke to Rhea Perlman, and that I tried to take Danny DeVito's used Calistoga water bottle. He was surprisingly sympathetic, and only laughed for a little while.

"I suppose I shouldn't tell you this," he said. "I suppose I should just let you learn your lesson, but, check out who's sitting about five rows in front of us."

Five rows up and four seats over, to be exact. Danny DeVito! Rhea Perlman! I could see the tops of their beautiful heads! The house lights went down, Beauty and the Beast began. I started to laugh uncontrollably.

"It's not funny yet," whispered the kid next to me.

Little did he know.