How Gisele And I Will Become Best Friends
One day Gisele and I will become best friends, and it’ll go a little something like this…
A publicist contacted my boss presenting him with an opportunity to interview Tom Brady in Los Angeles. ”Who are we going to send to this?” he wonders. Since we have no in-house sports editor, and I happen to be vacationing in L.A. at the time of the interview, my boss suggests I do it. Not knowing much about the New England Patriots, I agree, thinking this is exactly what my portfolio needs to diversify it.
When I arrive to the interview, it’s how I imagined it to be: A bunch of sports journalists, NFL fans who won tickets to this event from a local radio show contest, and publicists. I’m given an interview time — the last slot, of course – and directed to the backroom to wait my turn.
When I get to the backroom, I let out a bit of pee in my pants. No, not because I’m nervous about interviewing Tom Brady (well, OK, a little), but because there she is sitting in a corner presumably doing what I’m about to do — waiting. It’s Gisele! “OMG” I think to myself. I’m already visualizing how my new Facebook profile picture will look. “Do you think I could get one with Tom, the kid and her?” I think to myself. “That would be the ultimate holy-shit Facebook pic. Na, just Gisele and I would be better…” Then I realize that I should acknowledge her presence, so I casually smile at her.
As the consummate professional, I keep my eyes on the job, so I pull out my interview notes and my Zen Nano Plus MP3 player to calm my nerves down. Gisele, perhaps bored, looks at me moving my lips sans sound and picks up on my lip-synching. “What are you listening to?” she asks as she observes my relaxation technique.
“‘Where My Girls At’ by 702,” I reply.
“OMG, ‘Where my girls at, from the front to back, well is you feelin’ that, put one hand up, can you repeat that…’ I love that song! It’s so old, I never hear it anymore,” she says.
“I know… 702 calms me down,” I explain.
“Are you nervous about interviewing my Brady? Don’t be!” she says.
“I know, but I just want to make sure I do a good job…”
“You’ll be fine… what time is it? These interviews have been going on all day. Let’s go get Tom, you’re going to do your interview right now…” she decides.
Gisele playfully escorts me to Tom, interrupting the current journalist who’s interviewing him (who, thankfully, is about two inches shorter than me and 60 pounds heavier than me — hey, gotta look better for the Brady family, right?). So I interview him. It goes well. Most of the initial crowd of NFL folk have left.
“Tom,” Gisele says, “he’s listening to 702! You know the group I love?!”
I pull out a copy of 702 (which I always travel with) and hand it to her. “Here, take my copy. You were so nice about getting me through the interview, I insist. Enjoy!”
We exchange a few more kind words and part ways.
Shit, I didn’t get my Facebook picture
I return to my friend’s place (where I’m staying) to begin transcribing the interview and check my email. The publicist has invited me to the after-party tonight. Sweet! That night I bump into Gisele again, we exchange a few more words, but I mostly don’t want to interrupt the plethora of media people around her.
My friends and I (yes, I snuck them in) find a corner on the dance floor to rock it out. I go to the DJ and request “Where My Girls At.” He plays it, and because most of the sidity people at the party have no idea what the track is, Gisele instantly spots my friends and I on the dance floor and joins in! People are taking pictures wondering what’s going on (alas, I got my Facebook pic).
After a night of serious dancing and bonding with Gisele, we exchange numbers (!) and then live happily ever after as besties The end!