Infiltrating The Paparazzi on the Red Carpet at NAPT’s Celebrity Poker Tournament

First thing you must realize: celebrities aren’t like you and I.

You might think they are, but they are not. Easy example: when was the last time you (or I) were in the ‘90’s boy band, New Kids On The Block? I think the answer would be pretty darn near close to never. Or when was the last time either of us were in the movie, White Chicks? Again, darn close to the day after never. See, it’s laughable to even think that we are even remotely like celebrities.

My point: get over it.

So what can a mere mortal do in order to get closer to these prized super-humans? (Or uber-humans for our German readers.) In an effort to get inside the inner-circle, I–your friend, hero, and faithful narrator, will infiltrate the world of paparazzi and celebrity red carpets at PokerStars’ NAPT celebrity tournament held at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas. The likes of Slash, Brad Garrett, Donnie Walhberg, Dancing with the Stars Joanna Krupa, and Marlon Wayans will be on hand to show off their poker-playing proclivities, playing alongside pros Joe Cada, Greg Raymer, and Daniel Negreanu, in order to raise money for Three Squares charity.  (Their pooled talents end up raising $43,025.00.)

This actually won’t be much of an infiltration being I already have fancy media credentials. (I simply asked the PR guy if I could get a press spot on the red carpet for tonight’s parade of celebrity.) But still this will allow me to scrap shoulders with the paparazzi while in action on their turf.

Read on……….

The Venetian casino is set up like the Blair Witch Project.

Wandering aimlessly in a loop–questing for my desired locale—I somehow find myself reluctantly circling back to my original starting point by the Happy Days-themed slot machines. Through trial-and-error, I find my destination; the Venetian poker room.

Like a scrappy crime-fighting team or non-superhero Justice League of American, the celebrities are perched in front of a large PokerStars backdrop.

Hey! There’s that guy from Seinfeld! Whoa! There’s one of the New Kids on the Block—as an adult. There’s Christian Slater rubbing elbows with Montel Williams while skateboarder Tony Hawk looks on.  Where other than a celebrity poker tournament would these famous lines intersect at this precise point? Sure it seems like a random bunch. (The celebrities, I was told, were chosen in accord to who was willing to show up.) But few people know that Montel Williams is one hell of a good poker player. (He placed 3^rd in the celebrity tournament in the Bahamas.)

Railbirds click away at the famous.

Don’t you hate when you’re trying to get a photo of Slash and Everyone Loves Raymond’s Brad Garrett keeps getting in the shot? In another surreal photo-op, Donnie Walhberg, clad in a Boston baseball cap and ‘90’style factory ripped jeans, stands alongside Slash as they both hold a guitar.

It’s like a CD cover for some bizarre band that would only have hit songs in Japan.

“That’s Jenna Jamison’s husband,” whispers a fellow journalist; pointing out a huge man with a shaved head who wears a white T-shirt that says Punishment. He mingles among his adoring fans.  As he makes his way to the poker table I ask a series of quick questions, whose responses I interpret as double-entendres being I’ve confused the large man for Jenna’s former husband: porn star Jay Grdina,.

“What do you use from your other career when you sit down at the poker table?”

“Patience.” (Pause.) Don’t get pushed around.” (Double-entendre.)

“I see,” I respond with a smirk.  “Are you going to win?”

“Of course I’m going to win. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t going to win.”

(I’m not sure what that double-entendre would be, but I’m sure there’s one in there somewhere.)

After the interview, I’m informed that the large man is actually UFC champ Tito Ortiz; Jenna Jameson’s current husband. (Mental note: always do research before interviewing someone.) Yes, here’s me hanging out with celebrities and world-class poker pros like it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“Hey Wahlberg! Sit down Donnie,” a player cries from one of the tables—as the bad boy from everyone’s favorite `90’s boy band and real-life Johnny Drama—settles into the table with his sunglasses firmly in place. While playing, Donnie makes sure he’s Hangin’ Tough and plays each hand Step by Step. (These are New Kids on the Block song titles—thus the humor.)

The poker camaraderie is fun to watch. No matter who you are—famous or not famous—we all played poker at one time in our parent’s basement on a crappy foldout card table; the joys of that transpire here. Seinfeld’s Jason Alexander eats a salad at the table between hands. “Oh my God!” he exclaims when he lucks out on the pot in an amazing squeeze play. Meanwhile, I try to figure out the identity of the very, very old white haired gentleman at the end of the celebrity poker table with a large stack of chips in front of him.  Who could he be? 60 Minutes’ Andy Rooney? Hal Holbrook!? Abe Vigoda?

“Whose the really old guy,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth.

“That’s Eric Hilton.”

Besides having his name (Hilton) on the side of gazillion hotels worldwide and one of the founders of Three Squares charity, this man’s clan is also responsible for the existence of Paris Hilton. (They should’ve quit with the charity formation.) Tomorrow night the famous debutante is having her birthday celebration at the Venetian. (I later witness the monstrous affair that harvested a huge line comprised of tourists all dressed like Paris Hilton. The birthday celebration turned out to be merely a ploy to fill Tao nightclub. Inside, I felt as duped as one would if they were sucked a timeshare presentation.)

ONWARD TO THE RED CARPET

Though I’m infiltrating the red carpet (with proper press credentials), I still wish I could go incognito. Apparently, the woman from Hollywood Knights (the company that wrangles celebs) recognizes me from my previous celebrity poker red carpet outing.

“Were you at the PokerStars tournament in the Bahamas?” she asks.

“Yes!” I firmly confirm.

“Did you write a story about Slash?” she questions with a hint of animosity.

“No!” I firmly say (Neglecting to inform her that sometimes when I saw “no” I actually mean “yes”.)

“You’ve never written a story about Slash?” the celebrity handler once again questions.

“No!” I again confirm. (Applying again the same rule of “no” that actually means “yes”.)

I did write a story about Slash. The reason for my hesitancy: I reported how the handler required a ridiculous set of strict ground rules.

“No questions about Guns & Roses! No questions about Velvet Revolver! He has a new album coming out and you can ask him about that.”

I thought how flippin’ odd is the world of celebrities and celebrity handlers; denying questions about the things that made these celebrities famous in the first place.

The celebrity red carpet ceremony takes place after the PokerStars celebrity tournament is over. I’m not sure of the logic behind this. The red carpet is the quintessential element of any celebrity event. Where would we be without the red carpet? It provides a magical dance between celebrity and paparazzi as cameras snap, the famous pose, and fans go apeshit. This piece of colored fabric is an intricate part of the evening. You got to remember in Vegas, the classic celebrity red carpet is an extremely scared event; only the most special occasions garnish this paparazzi-filled pomp-and-circumstance.

Like, for example, the grand opening of Pink’s Hot Dogs on the Vegas strip. That wrangled the likes of Kim Kardashian. (Was it the phallic hot dog shape that attracted her?)

But, I’d have to say the NAPT red carpet is far superior to any wienery red carpet. Lined with paparazzi loaded with large cameras, a sea of tourists spill over the balcony in an attempt to glimpse at those they knows from the world of showbiz. Meanwhile, my brain-thinking-device tries to construct the most inappropriate questions to ask celebrity on the red carpet:

Q: What makes you sad?

Q: Did daddy never love you?

Q. Where do you usually buy your roofies?

“When the celebrities come through you’re going to have to move,” snaps a very tiny but intense, blond paparazzi woman. Holding a camera the size of a cannon, she stands positioned atop of a stool for optimal red carpet photos.  Maybe she’s a legend in the world of paparazzi? Could this be the woman who got the classic Britney-coming-out-of-a-limo-without-panties shot?

“What publication are you from?” she, asks from her perch; in a combination of both curiosity and to say, “I bet I come from a better publication than you.”

“Soldier of Fortune magazine,” I reply. “Who do you work for?”

“Splash News.” (For some reason, her business card lists three occupations that have nothing to do with photography.)

“So how’s it going?”

She flips through their photos.

“They’re going to fire me after tonight because my photos are crap.”

The tiny woman then turns to screaming at celebrities. She barks out commands like, somehow, she’s a good friend with these people who she’s never met. In your face Pink’s Hot Dogs—here’s Christian Slater.

“Right here Christian! Right here! To your right! One more Christian! Right here.”

Cameras flash. Christian Slater strikes many poses perched in front of a large black backdrop blazoned with PokerStars logos.

The tiny woman looks frustrated.  She rudely pushes her way in front of the other paparazzi. Her paparazzi manner might be misconstrued as something not unlike, annoying.

“Coming up next: Brad Garrett,” the red carpet coordinator announces like it were a debutante coming out party.

“Brad! Brad! More back here. Can I get you back here! One more Brad! One more!”

Joanna Krupa from Dancing with the Stars couldn’t take a bad photo. I snapped several and she looked amazing each time. But did any of the paparazzi bother to snap a photo of her feet? Her feet told a slightly different story. The lovely Krupa has a screwed up toe on her left foot. It’s a goony-goo-goo toe. Who would’ve figured?

Compare her feet with some of the other celebrities on the NAPT celeb red carpet.

Jason Alexander dressed like a mullet haircut; all serious up top while clad in a suit jacket, while downstairs he was all party; clad in tennis shoes.

I feel bad for a very nice reporter who nervously asks Jason Alexander without a hint of irony: “What was your favorite episode of Seinfeld?”

Good-natured Jason, simply replies with a patient smile, “What was your favorite episode? I’ll go with that.”

“Coming up: Marlon Wayons.”

“Right here Marlon! Right here! To your right! One more Marlon! Right here,” she again barks.

“What shoes are you wearing, Marlon?” I contribute.

“How did you do in the tournament, Marlin?”

“Not good,” replies the hooded star of White Chicks. He makes an unhappy face.

The tiny, intense woman grabs her stool and suddenly leaves in a huff.

“She refused to move her stool,” another member of the paparazzi shares, stating how the intense woman has been kicked out of celebrity photo shoots in the past. It’s refreshing know that even her peers find her crazy; I just assumed that’s how paparazzi are supposed to act.

“Coming up next: Donnie Walhberg.”

Positioned at the end of the red carpet, my journalist friend is about to meet her childhood idol. As a child she was a huge New Kids on the Block fan. Though Jordan was her favorite, she did used to sleep in New Kids On the Block pajamas: how many other people here slept in pajamas with the likeness of a celebrity on the red carpet? I don’t think there are many who slept in Brad Garrett pajamas. Suddenly reverting to that shy 10-year old New Kids on the Block fan, she finally gets her chance to throw questions at Donnie Walhberg all these years later:

“So you’re married now.”

“I actually just got divorced,……..”

Donnie Walhberg then opens up about marital troubles in the middle of the red carpet–kind of a strange place to share.

Afterwards, my friend confesses about meeting the man who rocked her childhood world.  “He looked like he had a lot of hurt inside of him. (Pause.) He looked old and tired.”

Don’t ask for what you wish for because you just might get it–especially on the celebrity red carpet.