I thought it would be really cool to walk up to straight up to Sting at the premiere and shake his hand and record it on my I-Pod. After all I'm a plain Tennessean made somewhat good (but mostly broke) in the awful, big city. A complete shiny-eyed bohunk with one strap of his overhauls unbutt' come up here like Sister Carrie, Madame Bovary, Tom Jones, and that little French critter from Balzac's Lost Illusions. I've got a democratic feeling of equality like the Tennessee farmer who, after hearing Martin Van Buren speak, stepped up, shook the President's hand, and invited him "to come out and r'ar around with the boys." Why not videorecord the whole experience?
Well, first you'll notice that the presence of celebrity causes me to giggle like Butthead, but come on dude's name is Sting.
Second, I completely lose the gumption to stick the camera to the man's face so the screen goes all Stan Brakhage to the inside of my cuff and I sidle up to him as he's talking to Paul Stamets about a revolutionary cardboardbox that not only biodegrades but is laced with tree seeds and fungal spores so it will literally sprout a forest after it decomposes. I actually had this thought in my head, "Wow, I'm going to rescue Sting from this weird shroomy sociopath." Turns out dude is a genius in the movie.
I walk up to him, shake his hand and say, "I will always remember you as Feyd Rautha." He said, "Yes, you remember those flying underpants." What you don't see is Sting gesturing to his bodyguard tremendously. I then started going about Baron Harkonnen and the image being stuck in the basal ganglia, when I realized I was the lunatic he was trying to be rescued from. Well, I had terrible breath anyway.
Then, I read on the Internet that Sting was schoolteatcher at St. Paul's Middle School from 1971 to 1974 before starting a band called The Police and recording "Don't Stand So Close To Me." Now listen to that song and you tell me who you think is the creepy guy.