Braggart

Disclaimer: I usually don’t get all wobbly-kneed around celebrities.

So, Brad Pitt wants to build 150 green homes in New Orleans’ lower ninth ward. It is in all of the papers. I knew about this, well, I think it has been a year ago now. What a fantastic opportunity to showboat my Brad Pitt story!

Anyway a year ago give or take, I was working at the swanky law firm in New Orleans. For some reason the heartless lawyers hadn’t yet stolen the windows from the IT Department; we had the best windows in the building. (Right before I left, there were plans to remodel the IT Department into partner offices and conference rooms, shoving the IT Department into cubicles. I told my boss I would quit if I lost my window. But I quit well before that.)

The IT Department was on the second floor of six, and had incredibly lofty 25′ (?) windows with gorgeous arches at the top. The building was built nearly a century ago (more?) and was once the city hall annex (morgue and all. One of the partners’ offices used to be the elevator shaft that carried bodies to the fifth and sixth floor morgue. Always liked that story). Anyway our windows, and my desk in particular looked across a narrow alley way to a famous hall where weddings, press conferences and that sort of thing are now held. It too used to be part of the city hall, and the buildings are in fact joined by “bridges” on two of the floors. Melissa and I would always stare boldly out the window into those of the hall to watch the staging of various parties, conferences and so on.

Melissa heard that Brad Pitt was in town; hell, I’m sure that most everyone knew he was in town (before he bought a house there). Anyway, he was there to announce a new project he was becoming involved in to bring homes back to the Lower Ninth Ward. Generally, I could care less about celebrities, and Brad Pitt was no different. But then something changed. As the day went on, we saw a lot of traffic, and then we heard that Brad Pitt was going to be in the building behind ours! How exciting we thought. But then, we saw someone come in and setup a makeup station. And then, nothing happened. We went about our work, and saw some guy come in, and Oh my God! it was Brad Pitt! We couldn’t really see him, and he wasn’t in there too long, but it was him.

So the press conference happened, Melissa and I went outside to stalk him, but then came back in. He came back in the room. This time he was there for awhile, pacing, he actually cared about what he was talking about it seemed. Suddenly, every legal secretary in the building was at my desk. Yelling. Screaming. Waving. It looked like the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. Either we made a loud enough ruckus, or he looked our general direction, I don’t know. But he came up to the window (about six feet away) and waved and flashed his movie star smile at us. It was neat, but the stodgy legal secretaries’ reactions were even better.

Eventually Brad left the room. Melissa and I again went outside to stalk him. The crowd had died down substantially; there were literally only seven or eight people waiting. And we had an idea; he was probably going to come out the side door (by our building) where no one else was. We figured out which car was waiting for him, watched it, and made our move. Suddenly Brad Pitt was right there, maybe a foot from us. My God! He was handsome! I made eye contact with him. (Maybe this is too much information, but oh well.) I don’t know why, but from my eyes, he kept moving down; he was checking me out! I know. Generally this is a skeevy guy move that happens more than I like to admit. But this was Brad Pitt. He goes home to Angelina, Angelina, Who? No, but seriously; it made my confidence soar, and my boyfriend was pretty proud too. I got checked out by Brad Pitt; doesn’t matter what he thought upon the checkout (I am sure he only thought marvelous things), it still happened.

For days after, Melissa and I couldn’t stop talking about it, literally. Everyone in the law firm wanted to know what he looked like so close. We told them. Except for the checking out part. It was so silly. Melissa and I caught up in our fantasy world… And then, Melissa had this dream about him mowing her lawn, and walking up behind him, and touching his chest, and… . Well, you get the idea.

Interestingly (to me anyway), Brad Pitt’s house was a street over and a couple of blocks toward the lake from my house on Esplanade (I think anyway). Alas, I never became best friends with Angelina. No dinner parties…