A silly fantasy

So after seeing The Devil Wears Prada with Baba and Grandpa today (great movie by the way; I also bought the soundtrack), I went to Borders to see if I could find any novelizations of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, or at the very least, look at the collection of books, even if they were targeted towards kids and pre-teens. What I found was a bit more interesting, though... (spoilers, obviously)

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Ooh, I forgot all about looking for the "Pirateology" book, which I still want. And I neglected to print out my 20% off one book with the purchase of $20 or more coupon, so in total, I spent $70 at Borders tonight (3 manga + 1 free, The Devil Wears Prada soundtrack, 1 necklace of sorts, 1 Bitty Book Light). Ugh, bad, BAD Mer! But I plan on returning the horrendous-ness that is Danielle Steel's latest, "Coming Out." It's drier than the Sahara, I'm telling you. You don't empathize for the characters at all, and they're about as wooden as the trees in my front yard. Worse, I have a feeling I know what's coming, so there's not really any motivation for me to finish the book except to see if I'm right or not. And even if I'm not, I doubt it'll come as a big shock. I'm over halfway through the book, and there's no real conflict (at least, the conflict seems pithy), no drama, no emotional strain. I think Danielle Steel's gotten so full of herself, she doesn't bother writing quality works anymore (oh noes! Anne Rice 2.0!). Some of her past things --especially the steamy romance novels-- were great reads, and you felt BAD about reading something so sinful. This? Waste of $15.

Now, onward to the topic of my post. So as I'm coming home, listening to my "He's a Pirate" remixes as always, and generally being in a giddy, happy mood (<= good movie + popcorn/candy/soda + Borders spree), I remember reading this tidbit about Johnny Depp from the latest issue of "Rolling Stone" ... which is, when Depp randomly gets "sick of LA" (or something to that effect, and either way, I know the feeling), he hops on an Amtrak train and goes wherever. Specifically, San Francisco, or maybe Seattle. I know exactly what train he means, and I've done that same journey before! (Actually, Scott and I were initially thinking about doing the train up to S.F. for this coming week, but we decided against it due to cost. That and after he broke up with me again -if you wanna call it that- I didn't want to bother being in any mode of transportation, comfy or not- with him for 10+ hours. STUCK. Talk about uncomfortable. But now that the ride's 45 minutes on an airplane, I wonder. @_o He's also been flirting with me again lately. Ugh, someone just... *_* I DON'T KNOW!!!) Anyway, back to my fantasy.

So I'm imagining that I'm back from Japan and on the Amtrak train heading up North, at some unspecified point during the year, and Depp decides to go incognito and take the train to get a breather from LA. And there are a variety of seats to choose from on this particular night-time train that we both happen to be on, and there I am, typing away madly on my laptop, listening to something on my iPod (Dead Man's Chest soundtrack, of course), and there are papers spread out all over the seat next to me. So he asks "Is this seat taken?" and as I busily save my work and try to move my stuff at the same time, I knock down the Dead Man's Chest CD (don't ask me why I have it if the songs are on my iPod. And I didn't buy the CD; I bought the iTunes OST with the digital PDF visual guide). He picks it up and smirks, then asks "Pirates of the Caribbean fan?" and I take off my earphones, just to be polite (they were on low anyway; rarely do I blast my music loud enough to NOT hear someone speak to me) and I say "Yup, I'm so excited about the movie coming out [this summer, so it must be some time during 2007], so I'm writing a story for it." (Fanfic or novelization of what I think the 3rd movie will be like, I can't remember. But one of the two.)

And then he asks me to talk about the story, and being the dimwit I am, I go on and on about the story, about what fanfiction is, about why I'm all about Will/Elizabeth, but Jack/Elizabeth has its appeal, and I did read a rather good essay on Jack/Elizabeth/Will (OT3). In the end, he's gotten all quiet and I turn to look at him, all embarrassed that I've gone and railed about this... and then I realize who he is and I turn TOMATO RED (because that always happens when I get embarrassed) and I stop talking altogether. He smirks again and says "Promise not to tell anyone?" and I just nod all dumbly. Then he asks if he can read the story, and I just squeak and let him have my laptop.

I can't remember what happened from there, but then I remember him saying he'll get off in San Francisco too, and I mention my mom works at one of the luxury hotels, and he asks me if I think I can help him get a room at the last minute. So I call mom up and am trying to be incognito that HELLO JOHNNY DEPP IS WALKING RIGHT NEXT TO ME SQUEE and Mom is just "You're nuts. But okay, I'll call people." and I finally manage to cool it, and Johnny thinks it's horribly amusing how "sane" I'm attempting to be, especially after on the train, I managed to gather my wits enough to not squeal and ask for his autograph. That's actually how I envision meeting a celebrity --if I ever do. That is, being calm, cool, and collected. "I am a journalist!" after all or something, and that means doing my job first, not being some fangirl. I don't want to be lumped together with all the forgettable faces leaning and crying and shoving things over police barriers at Hollywood premieres. Yuck.

But that was the end of my foolish fantasy, and it made me smile. So there. :P