I’m going to an event tonight where I’m one of the invited Red Carpet guests. It’s a party for the Junior membership of the Hollywood Radio and Television Society. I’ve always been fascinated by how people react to Red Carpets. Take a disheveled hipster walking down the street and no one thinks much of it. Put that same guy on a red carpet and now he’s someone people need to know.

I love to watch onlookers try to figure out who people are on the red carpet.

ONLOOKER1: Who’s that?

ONLOOKER2: I don’t know but let’s get his autograph.

Onlookers just assume that it’s their bad they don’t recognize the folks cheesing for the camera. See someone you have never laid eyes on walking on a red carpet and clearly you need to get out more. The best is when someone comes up to me and asks,

INQUIRER: Are you somebody?

Are they inquiring into my popularity or is this a philosophical question tackling the of existence of mankind.

ME: I walk on red carpets, therefore I am?

If this kind of thing becomes common place for me I may start giving my red carpet passes to my cousins from Brooklyn (the ones who never left Brooklyn) and let them go in my stead. Of course I would post up near by with a ginger ale and bag of pretzels watching people try to place the guy diddy boppin with a Yankee hat on and a toothpick in his mouth.

PRESS: And what do you do?

MY COUSIN: I do me son…Fix ya face!

Ginger ale pretzels and a fish out of water…What more could you ask for?