Grammy at the Grammys

That evening, the excitement that permeated Phipp’s Plaza, the upscale mall where Tiffany’s was hosting the event, sent my heart racing again. What if I didn’t get any good quotes? How embarrassing. People would never hire me again.

The red carpet drew a crowd of star-gazers, including an old guy (my age) who wanted to know what all the hoop-la was about. He had no idea who the headliners were either. It must be a generational thing.

For self preservation, I latched on to a petite Edelman public relations manager and said through clenched teeth. “Don’t leave my side. You have to be my spotter.”

“No problem,” she replied. “You’ve interviewed tons of famous people before. You’ll be fine.”

I planted my granny two-and-a-half inch heels firmly near the door and clutched my pad and pen. I was armed and ready to pounce on whoever walked down that red carpet. Fortunately, the first celebrity was Diana di Garmo, the second place American Idol winner. She was an easy interview – bubbly, enthusiastic, thrilled to be seen at the gala.

I relaxed. The phrase, “I’m with People magazine,” was magical. It paved the way to even the biggest of the big who willingly paused for a few questions. I managed to snag most of the nominees and came up with enough material for a decent story – with time left over for a glass of champagne.

My daughter called early the next morning. “How did it go?” she asked.

“I was awesome! I bet I could even get interviews with some of the Academy Award nominees. Do you think People would send me to Hollywood?”

“Then, you’d HAVE to take me,” she said.

“Well, if we get to go, I’ll spring for a full-length orthopedic gown for me and that black leather bustier for you – as long as it has a long sleeve turtle-neck cover-up.”