Wednesday, July 28, 1993 - The Michigan Daily Summer Weekly-il
Fear and lusting at
the Four Seasons
t
:,
p
By DARCY LOCKMAN We reached our destination acci-
We were somewhere around Chi- dent and overdose free. The Four Sea-
cago in the left lane of the Kennedy sons Hotel, our home for the night. At
expressway when reality began to take a loss as how to approach a gloved,
hold. I remember saying something uniformed valet parker, I pulled hesi-
like"250miles,"andmyeditorscream- tantlyintothehoteldrive.Noquestion,
ing, "Holy Jesus, what are these I was out of my league. My editor was
goddamn animals?" plain out of her mind.
Then it was quiet again. Just like it We made it through the valet and
had been when the phone call came, arrived unscathed at the front desk, but
the phone call from my editor. She my editor proved unable to cope art-
calledmelate,andIalwaysknowwhen fully with the registration procedure. I
I get a late phone call from my editor. letherstruggle,whilemygazeranover
Ijust know. our surroundings. Patterned marble,
"HI," she screamed into the re- plush carpets, chandeliers, vase upon
ceiver (she tends toward the cacopho- vase of fresh flowers. I knew we were
nous when excited). "Get packed. being set up, or that someone had
We're off. Chicago. Tomorrow. Four messed up. To such hotels The Michi- The cast of the Universal release "
Seasons Hotel. Premiere of the new gan Daily Summer Weekly was not
Robert Downey Jr. movie. Interview invited. found out who we really were and do
RobertDowney.Free.CourtesyofUni- I pushed my editor out of the way wanted to send us back from whence ha
versal Studios." before she had the chance to clear up we came. From OTL to OTL. Two wo
I abruptly pulled the receiverback any of the mistakes that had become hundred fifty miles. Pe
toward my ear and replied, "Sure," our fortune. I thought I could handle My editor began exploring the co
before I set down the phone, still the desk clerk, but all my not-so-well- room, picking up the little scented soaps m
vaguely unsure as to how much of rehearsed professional behavior fell in the Jacuzzi-centered bathroom, sit- Bu
what kind of drugs she was up to this apart under her sharp gaze. "Hi there," ting on the high, king-sized bed, un- an
week - the pressures of being Daily I said, no trace of manic. "My name locking thewell-stockedbarandplung- we
Arts editor. is...ah...RaoulaDuke...yes,onthelist, ing in. "Get a grip," I screamed, but sot
Then, the phone rang again. Noth- that's for sure." When it came to deal- that phrase means little to a woman
ing short of an answering machine ing with the big wigs, it was all about with ahead full of mescaline and para- Lo
wouldkillthismonster. Ifaceditlike a being on the list. OTL. noia. All decisions would fall on me. ne
journalist, ear on. Butunfortunatey,Iwasoffthelist, A quick investigation of the tele- ed
"HELLO," I screamed into the re- still OTL, but with a different inflec- phone helped me determine how to (q
ceiver, strong in my determination to don. When itcomes to OTL and OTL, retrieve our message. Taking a deep Br
fight high decibel with high decibel. it's all about inflection. Luckily, my breath, I picked up the phone (just as I lit
"I was serious," she said with no editor was OTL and we were handed had on that fateful night when my re
trace of manic in her low voice. our room keys. As we scurried off to editor first suggested this junket) and pr
"THEN SO WAS I," I yelled. It is take the elevator to the 42nd floor, the decided we would simply make a run as
necessary to maintain one's decibel suddenly-friendly clerk called out, for it if they knew anything. When I m
decorum. It's all about consistency. "You have $125 credited to your room gave the hotel operator my secret code na
Or it was at that particular moment account, courtesy of Universal."Won- number, she whispered, "Check into ea
in time. But times change and consis- dering if Universal Studios was con- the Universal Hospitality Suite by U
tency gets you nowhere fast on Inter- fusing my editor and I with the OTL 7:30." Hmm, rather cryptic. th
state-94 west, and so right then, it was New York Times reporters, I turned Whilemyeditorsearchedtheroom w
all about speed. Of which my editor my head to nod at the clerk, and tripped for traces of Robert Downey Jr., I took g
had done a bit too much somewhere over my editor who was sprawled on aperfunctory showermanaging some- s
between Ypsilanti and Climax. "Pay the floor, presumably trying to investi- how to avoid getting lost in the bath-
no attention to these creatures," she gate the marble. room. Cleanliness accomplished on
orderedme."Wemustbeprofessional." I pulled her up and we climbed the my part, my editor and I crept up the
Ifollowedherordersandexitedthe stairs to the 42nd floor (somewhere stairs to Suite 4603. Dressed to the
construction-struck freeway at Ohio between the marble and the elevator nines, stomachs burning with Chivas
East. The city skyline loomed in the button it occurred to my editor that Regal, we were looking and feeling
distance - favorite town of the Cubs, elevators wereunprofessional).Loand very 0TL.
the Grateful Dead and John Hughes. behold, we got to our complimentary But you're only OTh until some-
Americana etherized on a table. suite and found the message light on one gives you a teeny tiny shove.
Following the directions given to the phone aflash. This was it, they had A Universal rep greeted us at the
me per phone by the clerk at the Four
Seasons Hotel (at least she claimed to
be a clerk, and swore it was the Four
Seasons - I had my doubts) I drove
towardDelaware Street, past the Hard
Rock Cafe, past Planet Hollywood.
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ieart and Souls," frolic in the streets of San Francisco.
or and told us to "come on in and
ve a brownie." Was this the Holly-
od equivalent of cookies and milk?
rhaps our young skin hadblown our
ver. "We've got to get out of here,"
y editor hissed atme under her breath.
t we had reached the half-way mark
td there would be no going back. We
re reporters, damn it, and we had
ime reporting to do.
Suspiciously enough, Brandon
witz, Universal wonder boy (the
wJeff, ofJeff andSusan)spottedmy
itor within seconds of our arrival
suite cleverly, I managed to escape
andon's sharp eye: my name was
erally not on any lists, and in the
a2m of the studio, with noname laser
inted on that paper, I was as invisible
Wonder Woman's jet). He handed
y editora hat and a T-shirt with the
ame of the movie emblazoned on
ch and told her to go down to the
niversal limo that would take her to
e premier. I took it for granted that I
ould accompany her. No list was
oing to stop this Gonzojoumalist, and
e was in no state to travel solo be-
sides.
"It's 990. My Probe will crash.
Stop the ambush. Save the serial kill-
ers," my editor screamed at the limo
driver. I flashed himmy best journalist
smile. He ignored us both and drove
slowly to the theater.
Thelightsinsidethe screening room
dimmed and I felt my muscles tense
up. There's something not quite right
about the lights going down on a big
Hollywood premiere. But I could not
think of myself, I had to consider my
editor. Ether effects everyone differ-
ently, and it was making her terribly
afraid of the dark. "Get a hold of your-
self," I screamed.
Throughoutthe film,Ifelttheinsis-
tent tug of the impending doom that
only aterribly amusing,insipidly sweet
Movie can bring about. Or maybe it
wasmy editor tugging onmy hair.One
could not be sure. I could only be sure
that it was Robert Downey Jr. whose
blazerI brushed against as I walked up
the aisle, that it was a bald Woody
See FEa, Page 12
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