by Rick Bundschuh
I got an invitation to attend an honest to goodness Hollywood premier.
It was a once in a lifetime experience that I would have passed on as the trek from Hawaii to Los Angles to go to a movie is a bit much and frankly, I am not that impressed by celebrities to get all that fired up about it.
But since I have a daughter who is a freshman majoring in film and had some extra miles, I thought I would suit up and mingle with the elite so that she would be encouraged to purse her craft.
Maybe suit up is not the right word.
I don’t own a suit or a tie. I did have some new black jeans and a nice Aloha shirt, which I thought would be appropriate attire since it was the premier of a surf movie, Soul Surfer, which was based on the book that I helped write for my long time friends, the Hamilton family. (And no, I am not getting anything for this effort other than bragging rights.)
So, with my daughter who was dressed to the nines in tow, we proceeded down Sunset Boulevard in search of the theater that would be hosting the premier.
If you’ve never been to Hollywood, please know that the glory days have been over for a long, long time. It is filthy, seedy, abandoned and littered with a wild collection of homeless, weirdoes and druggies.
But apparently there are shimmers from the past, for as we pulled up to the theater we could see that the streets were overflowing with paparazzi, media and loads of tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of Hollywood royalty.
As I wandered through the various levels of security that it took to actually get into the cinema, I took first hand note of how the caste system of popular culture works…
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