As I write this, I am 29,000 feet up in the air. I am on my flight home to Boston from a wonderful weekend in San Diego. I am a bit sad right now, because I just had to say good-bye to two good friends, Mike Trueblood and Haakon. Yesterday, the three of us had shared a very fun, special day together. But during that entire day, none of us had any idea what we would be experiencing that night.
We were about to begin the last part of what was already a perfect day for us. We had already done all our shopping, eating, and sight-seeing. We had just begun our leisure drive to Beverly Hills, to see the beautiful sights, and homes of the stars.
Mike was driving our white Kia Sephia rental car. I don't think any music was playing on the radio at the time. We were all a little tired, and just enjoying the night. It was about 7:00pm. We had just come from JONS supermarket, where we knew Madonna, Rupert Everett, and Benjamin Bratt had filmed a scene from "The Next Best Thing." Even though we realized that the JONS we had just visited wasn't the same one the movie scene was filmed in, we still had fun, got a few good laughs, and took some pictures and video.
Just a couple miles after we left JONS, we had stopped at a traffic light on Sunset Boulevard, near Tower Records. I was in the passenger seat, and Haakon was in the back. When we stopped at the light, it was just a natural instinct for me to glance over at the car to our right. I noticed a handsome, blond-haired man in his mid-30's sitting in the driver's seat. His window was down, mine was up. Then I realized that he looked a little like Madonna's boyfriend (at the time; they're married now), Guy Ritchie. Of course, all I had to go by was some photos I had seen of Guy and Madonna on the covers of some magazines, and a couple of random TV and tabloid photos.
Since the man I saw in the car next to us only looked a little bit like what I remember seeing on TV and in magazines, I wasn't even going to bother saying anything, but I figured I'd make a comment, just to break the silence of the moment. I said in a totally calm, matter-of-fact tone, "That looks like Guy Ritchie." A couple seconds later, Mike looked over at the car and said calmly, "Steve, that is Guy Ritchie" (with only slight emphasis on the "is"). I still thought nothing of it, and half-thought that Mike was joking around, and half-thought that he wasn't sure himself.
Then I glanced over to the person sitting in the passenger seat of the black Mercedes. At first, all I could tell was that it was a woman. From the angle I was sitting at, I could only see her from the chin up. Then, I thought to myself, "what a coincidence - a guy that looks like Guy Ritchie, sitting next to a woman that looks like Madonna." Since we all know that Madonna's looks change so often from one day to the next, I still wasn't 100% sure of myself. I still just thought it was a coincidence.
Then, it happened. The "woman" sitting in the passenger's seat did what just about any other normal human being would do - she glanced over to our car, and quickly made eye contact with all three people in our car. At the very instant she made direct eye contact with me, I almost threw up. All at once, it totally hit me. That REALLY WAS Guy Ritchie, and it REALLY WAS the ONE AND ONLY MADONNA sitting next to him! It was such an unexpected shock to me, I totally didn't even know how to react. I don't even remember exactly what I said. I think I said something like, "Holy SHIT, that really is fucking Madonna, right there next to us!" "Oh my GOD, oh MY God, OH my GOD!!!" we all shouted. We were kinda laughing and screaming at the same time. Within ten seconds, the entire mood had changed from laid-back and calm to one of extreme excitement.
That's when I realized that I should be USING that beautiful digital video camera that we had been playing around with all day. "Where's the God Damn Fucking CAMERA!?!?!?!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. About three seconds later (which seemed like a whole minute), Haakon produced the Sony TRV-8 digital handycam that would capture the moment. I was screaming, turning on the camera, and trying to keep my eyes on the black Mercedes next to us, all at the same time.
At first, Mike was telling me not to take any pictures. "Don't you DARE take pictures of them," he said. Suddenly, a scene from Madonna's video for "Drowned World / Substitute For Love" entered my mind - the scene where Madonna's relieved smile is quickly turned into a disappointing and discouraged frown, after a seemingly-respecting hotel maid shamelessly snaps a flash photo of Madonna, just after Madonna had escaped from a crowd of obsessed fans, and found what she thought to be a normal, friendly person. And that's when Madonna was totally "humanized" for me once and for all. But at the same time, I was still beside myself with excitement about seeing Madonna face-to-face, but I had to think fast. Do I just say "to hell with it" and take all sorts of pictures, or do I give the couple the respect they deserve, and let them drive away in peace?
I wondered if she recognized me. I'm sure she didn't, but the thought did enter my mind. I mean here I am, owner and operator of one of the largest Madonna web sites in the world, collector of every type of Madonna-bilia imaginable for over 12 years, sitting just a few feet away from the woman who keeps me happy, and indirectly pays my bills. It was a really weird feeling to say the least. I felt excited, happy, and embarrassed, all at the same time. I would have given anything to know what her and/or Guy were thinking and/or saying in that car next to us, if anything at all. Perhaps they just glanced over at us, like they would to anyone else, thought nothing of us, and got on with their life.
The next thing we knew, the light had turned green, and the black Mercedes began driving forward. "If you don't follow that fucking car, I'll slit your fucking throat open!" I shouted to Mike, as we took off from the traffic light." "Just be careful with that camera Steve," Mike warned, "Guy gave me a quite the look at that traffic light, he might be on to us." As soon as their car was in front of us, sure enough, I saw the New York license plate, and that was the very last shred of solid proof that I needed. I just couldn't believe my eyes. When we had stopped at the next traffic light, there was one white car in front of us, then Madonna's Mercedes in front of that. I zoomed all the way in with my camera, and I could easily read the license plate through the windshield of the car in front of us, but I couldn't really see Madonna or Guy, because the top of the windshield was blocking most of the view. But I KNEW they were right there in front of us, and it was an amazing feeling.
I suddenly started thinking about all that Madonna had done in her life. All that she was. All that she is. All that she will be. All the magazines she's been on the cover of. All the songs she's sung, all the movies she's been in. The wonderful way she had touched so many millions of lives in so many ways. All the places she had been. And most importantly, all the places that she could have been at that moment in time. But there she was - sitting in a car just a few feet in front of us! Yes, a human being just like anybody else, but an entertainment icon respected and loved by people all around the world.
When the light turned green, we continued to follow the car for about 3/4 of a mile or so toward Beverly Hills. Mike did a great job of keeping a respectable distance, yet keeping track of their car. I tried to keep the camera steady, but I was shaking like crazy because I was nervous. My heart was pounding as if I had just run a marathon. I had no idea where they were going, where they had come from, or how far we would have to follow them before we either gave up, lost them, or whatever. Then Guy turned on his right-directional. I was screaming for Mike to follow directly behind them, but instead, he did what I must admit was the right thing. He did not follow directly behind the car. We kept on going straight ahead, and we took the next right after the street they turned on to. At the end of that street, we took a right, then another right.
"There they are!" all three of us shouted in perfect unison. We drove a little closer, then from about 40 feet away, we pulled over and watched in awe as the black Mercedes turned into the driveway, and the big black iron gates slid closed. Haakon noted the house number (not mentioned here to protect their privacy). We drove by the house to the end of the street, and noted the street name (again, not mentioned here to protect their privacy). Of course, the biggest question on our minds right now was, "Who the hell do we call first?!?"
The first person I called was Kim. I didn't even care that it would be costing me 99 cents a minute in roaming charges, plus long distance. I dialed the number, and waited patiently for an answer. Her room-mate Linda answered. "Is Kim There?" I asked. "No, I think she's upstairs at Emma's." I instantly remembered that I had Emma's number stored in my cell phone. I called up stairs to Emma's, and told Kim the whole story. I could barely speak. I was screaming, laughing, and almost crying with excitement, all at the same time.
Of course, for the next hour, it was ALL we could think about, all we could talk about. We kept on re-living those magical ten minutes in our minds, and with each other. We kept on thinking about a thousand things that could have happened (or not happened) during the day, that would have changed the timing by just a few crucial seconds, making the difference between a great night and a totally incredible, unforgettable night.
As we had planned all along, we parked the car near Rodeo Drive, and started walking around. It was a Sunday night, so pretty much everything was closed, but we wanted to see some of the insanely-expensive shops that Madonna and other celebrities probably shop in when they're in the area. Looking in the windows of the shops, I could see the vulgar display of wealth, and I couldn't help but picture Madonna inside some of the stores, shopping for the latest fashions or home furnishings.
We stopped at a small coffee shop so Mike could get a drink. While I was standing in line with Mike, I started thinking about the question that so many people have asked me in the past: What would I say to Madonna, should I ever just "run into her" unexpectedly, face to face?. I never really knew the exact answer to that question, until now. Since I had just seen her a few minutes ago, and the whole thing was still fresh in my mind, it really made me think of what would REALLY WOULD happen if we really did come face to face. Everybody probably has an idea of what they THINK they would say to her, but it's a lot different when it actually happens. Then, I realized that would say something like, "Please excuse me for staring at you, but I just cannot believe that it is YOU standing right here in front of me." Of course, I don't know what I would say after that, or who would have the next word or what would happen next, but I'm about 95% sure that's how I would start off the conversation.
We walked a few more blocks down the road, then sat at a nice fountain to calm down some more, and talk about what had just happened. While it was still fresh in my mind, Mike turned on the video camera, and proceeded to film my recollection of the story. We were sitting on the edge of a beautiful fountain, right in front of the hotel where Julia Roberts was filmed in "Pretty Woman." You would have needed plastic surgery to remove the smiles from our faces.
After the "interview," Mike decided that we should return to the "scene of the crime." We drove back up to the street they turned in to. As soon as we started down the street, we saw a black car pulling out of a driveway on the left-hand side. We immediately freaked out, thinking for just a second that it was Madonna and guy again. But then we realized that it was not a Mercedes, and it wasn't them. We proceeded down the street a bit, and Mike pulled over, across the street and about 50 feet down from the house they pulled into. Haakon and I got out of the car; Haakon with still camera in hand, and me with the video camera. We very slowly and carefully walked toward the house, not knowing what to think or expect. "This is it," I said. There were quite a bit of trees and bushes in front of the house, but also a lot of cinder blocks, piles of dirt, and "construction" going on. I thought about how Guy Ritchie had recently "kicked the crap" out of an obsessed stalker, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen to us. I noticed a sidewalk in front of the house, and figured that would be a safe (and legal) place to stand.
With camera rolling, I managed to get a perfect, dead-on view of a large window in the front of the house. As I began to zoom in, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. I suddenly felt so guilty about invading their privacy. I had this image in my mind of Madonna standing right in the window, looking at me, with that look in her face like in the "Drowned World" video. But there was nobody there. I continued to shoot some footage of the house, making sure that I stayed on the sidewalk, which was NOT part of their private property. I saw a set of stairs in front of the house, and wondered how many times Madonna and her beautiful daughter Lourdes have sat on, played on, and walked up and down those stairs.
Then I noticed that part of the front yard was surrounded with that yellow plastic "tape" (like the police use to section-off a crime scene), only this tape just said "CAUTION" on it. Then I noticed a piece of this tape, about a foot and a half long, sitting on the ground, just next to the sidewalk. One end of it had obviously been ripped-off by hand, and it was just sitting there. I actually felt kinda stupid doing something like this, but I certainly didn't feel guilty about it either. At first, I thought to myself, "Hey, when's the next time I'm gonna be standing in front of Madonna's and/or Guy Ritchie's House?" Then I figured "heck, if you think about it, all I'm really doing is doing my part to help keep the neighborhood clean." I stuffed the dirty piece of yellow tape into my left-hand pocket, and considered that my "souvenir."
I took a few more seconds of film, mostly of the surrounding houses and the street. "Okay, that's good enough," I said to Haakon. "Mission accomplished." We walked back over to the white Sephia, got inside, and started driving away slowly. I took some more footage of the incredibly beautiful and unique houses on the street.
"Okay, I can go die now," I said. "My life is now complete," said Haakon. "Now you can put a great big "check mark" in your list of "things to do before you die," Mike said. We headed back to San Diego, still in awe of what we had just seen and done. That night when I got back to Mike's, we talked about it some more, laughing like crazy at the whole coincidence of the whole thing. When I laid down to go to sleep, I just kept hearing my own voice in my head, over and over again, saying "That looks like Guy Ritchie......"
The next morning, Mike walked me down to the car, which I had to return before my flight home. We said good-bye, hugged each other, and we were both trying to hold back tears. As I drove away from Mike's apartment, I had a huge smile on my face.
When I got to the airport, I made my way to Gate 30. Madonna's "Angel" started playing over the airport's PA system. I almost laughed right out loud. Of course, I had heard that song a hundred thousand times already. But this time, some of the lyrics seemed to stand out and have special meaning, like "I can't hear the traffic rushing by" and "this just can't be coincidence" and "I can see it in your eyes." I wished that Mike was there to hear that song with me - I think he would have felt the same way: I felt as though Madonna was calling me (us) "Angels" for not "stalking" her and Guy. I know that at least for a while, I will think differently every time I hear Madonna on the radio, in my car, or at a club. I wonder what she's doing right now as I sit here in this airplane, typing out my memories of the night, as best as I can remember them.
...And that was just but one part of a weekend that I will never forget. I'll be landing in Boston soon, and I can't wait to tell the rest of my friends and family all about the incident that affected the lives of three close friends, but was probably just another ordinary trip home for one of the biggest superstars in the world.
Special thanks to my best friend Mike for driving us all around town. I'll see you soon!
--Steve