I've forever tried to understand what this Paris Hilton-thing is...What does it do? Why should I care? It looks asymmetric in the face and has giant feet. It has for one, money. For two, connections. For three, a sex tape. That would be the making of fame. I guess you could also throw in a prison stint freebie to catapult it to superstardom. Just this past weekend, I saw it. Not Paris Hilton the thing, but Paris Hilton in the flesh.
We were in Vegas, in her party stomping grounds, and went to XS nightclub. This club is ridiculously-on-another-level-amazing. Needless to say, I had fun. Walking by one of the main stairwells that led to the dance floor, we noticed a crowd gathering...A big hustle. And She wasn't hard to spot...There she was, Paris Hilton in her sparkly, obnoxious glory, blond hair and braided bangs dancing up a storm in her V.I.P. booth, surrounded by security and personnel. but she wasn't alone, Nicky Hilton and her B.F. David Katzenberg were in tow. Being a self proclaimed celebrity know it all, I could barely contain myself. My friend takes out her camera and sets up for a pic, when Paris's (I'm going to call her, her "handler") whips around and starts furiously yelling "to put away the camera right now!" (I soon find out why, other then the obvious "privacy" reason and ps. we managed a phone pic, above). We gaze and stare for a bit longer then wonder off to do our own thing. A good while later, we leave the club for a breather and a phone call. Standing near the front to get back in, a V.I.P. XS host comes up to us and asks us if we want to party at Paris hilton's booth.... UH FUCK YEAH. The three of us got escorted through the club, dropped off at her table, handed champagne glasses, and all the sudden we're partying with Paris. She was OBLITERATED. Nicky was WASTED. And lord knows, the Cristal was FREE FLOWING. There must have been at least 25 bottles of Cristal on the table, and several V.I.P. servers just opening them. Every time I took a sip, Champagne. Every time I looked away, Champagne. At one point, I had 2 glasses in my hand, sipping both at the same time. The reason being for our invite, as far as I can tell is that the entourage looks good and the more bottles they open, the more she gets charged. So we danced, and sipped and internally kept freaking out that Paris was dancing right in front of us.
Well dancing is an operative word... more like thrashing and arm wagging. At one point Paris decides to jump up on the booth ledge and starts droppin' it, swaying back and forth...she needed three security people and David to hold her up. She did not give a shit. And XS didn't either. If any one of us commoners had been that publicly mangled I promise you we'd be tossed out. I guess its also because we're not footing a 250, 000$ bill (supposedly). After a while, I got used to her just stumbling around and cared more about drinking. More Champagne. The V.I.P. servers didn't ask, they just poured. Perfect, I'll take it.
In true i-have-too-much-money-style Paris takes a Cristal bottle, shakes it...and champagne fight! Fucking rich people.
Thinking we've reached the pinnacle of our night, we got word that Usher was coming. And he did. He came right to the table. Dressed in black, with dark sunglasses and shorter than I had imagined, Usher was standing at arms length from me. And the Hilton thrashing stopped. I'm calling it Hilton thrashing because both Paris and Nicky are THE.WORST.DANCERS.EVER. like holy-off-beat-angry-hand-waving. She perked up, seemed to instantly sober up and leaned into his ear and exchanged words. Her dead limbs weren't flipping around and she wasn't being hoisted up. Funny.
Usher stood in the same spot and didn't say much (though he did smile at us). His presence was too cool, he was too cool for Paris and even when they played OMG, his song, he was too cool. Very DL. And before I knew it, he was gone.
And like a freight train, She came at me. All the sudden I have Paris leaning on me and "dancing". My face, I've been told, was fixed in this weird freak out smile.
I touched it, I interacted with it. Now I'm over it.
Soon after my brush with the Paris, we left. Probably because it was 5am, or because we were wasted, either way I DO NOT REMEMBER leaving. I got home and toilet hugged until the wee hours of the morning but throwing up free Hilton Cristal made it ok. The Paris mystique has for me faded; she still parties hard, she's a terrible dancer and she's actually pretty in real life. To me she was grand, of course, but we got used to her. I got used to seeing her around, and even the next night we saw her again, at the same club and we shrugged her off and did our own thing. Understand this, I would never shrug away an Usher, a Jay-Z or even a Natalie Portman, That's all the Paris Hilton I needed.
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