Guess who I met tonight. Just guess!!!
If you guessed George Clooney, as was my mother's guess, you'd be wrong. But if you guessed Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger III, you'd be right!
A year ago, Clemens introduced me to Mel, which you know, is great and everything, but the last time I checked, Melissa didn't save 155 lives by smoothly landing an airplane in the Hudson. While I love my best friend very much and will always be grateful to Clemens, he really trumped himself tonight...by having Sully at his cocktail party!
I was running late, mainly due to my new, sassy headdress and it's questionability. I couldn't decide if it was too much or too fabulous and it kept moving around due to my constantly touching it. I raced into said soiree and saw Mel schmoozing two older dudes. Rushing over to her, I was still futzing with my accessories.
"Sorry I'm so fuc....Oh. Oh My God."
"Capt. Sullenberger, this is Beth Spotswood. She's a writer as well."
It took me 3-5 seconds to acclimatize myself to the situation and here's what I can report:
Mel was definitely nervous and excited, although playing it very cool/reverent and whispered to me to stop touching my head. Sully is incredibly tall and slim, much taller than he looks on TV and gloriously, much taller than me. Because I'm height obsessed, I tried to measure Sully with my eyes. He seems taller than my dad and Dick Spotswood is 6'2". Sully is very soft-spoken. I really had to listen in to hear him speak. He was wearing civilian clothing. Sully was very laid back and friendly, more relaxed than he was on, like, Letterman. But also, I wasn't asking him about landing an airplane in a river, not that I wasn't dying to. We discussed his kids, some poem he likes (Mel can tell you more about this) and that's about it.
I can also report that the first thing I said (yelled, perhaps) to him was "Oh my God, Sully! I'm such a huge fan!!!"
Unlike pretty much everyone else, I didn't muster the class or the calm to address this hero by his rank, much less Mister or Sir or nothing at all. No, I called him "Sully." And then I called myself of a fan, like he's a Jonas Brother as opposed to a brilliant beacon of example.
Sully had lots of people to meet and very charmingly excused himself to greet a star-struck child. I had to excuse myself to go shit a brick in the goddamn corner.
I mingled with some friends and guests, eventually spotting Chris Daly carrying a baby around. I enjoy Chris Daly as much as the next hobo, but after talking to, well, basically Jesus, I didn't want to kill my buzz by hearing about composting.
Mel and I snuck off to dinner at the bar of the Washbag where most of our conversation consisted of "Dude. Sully!"
After I dropped Mel off at home, I illegally called my mother while driving.
"Guess who I met tonight?"
I knew my mother would guess. She always does. "David Hyde Pierce."
"Bigger than Niles Crane?"
"Okay. George Clooney."
Please. If I met George Clooney, I'd be calling my mother from a jail cell due to an unfortunate "incident" I'd later describe as a "misunderstanding."
"No, mom. I met Sully!"
"SULLY? NO!!!! REALLY??? OH MY GOD, I NEED TO GET YOUR FATHER!!!! HOLD ON!!!! (lots of mumbling in the background while my mother explains to my father what's transpired.) Wow, Beth. What was he like?"
Wonderful, really. Normal. Humble and friendly. Tall. I...I just want to sit on a couch with him. And have him solve all of my problems...