Oh, Princess

Over the years the Hula’s have had a few brushes with fame. We’ve spotted a couple of well known entertainers while goofing around in Nashville. Because I used to work in journalism, I’ve seen every President since Ronald Reagan up close and live. That was always cool, even when it was a President I didn’t like. Years ago when I was much, much younger and worked in radio I met some famous singers and interviewed a few of them. Waylon Jennings was very nice. Charlie Daniels had popcorn in his beard. I’ve met some other famous folks while working at a local telethon, too. Some of those young soap stars from “Days of Our Lives” are pretty hot up close. A few years ago I was attending a convention in Las Vegas and during an extended lunch break I sat down at a slot machine in a casino to piddle away some time, um, I mean twenty dollars. I sat next to some giddy French folks who didn’t speak a bit of English. We didn’t know what each other was saying, but we had a fine time cheering each other on during a Spin to Win fest. At the height of our merriment, I mean losing, this big guy walked right by us, waved and said hi. “Hey, it’s Sinbad,” I said. My French buddies didn’t know who I was talking about, but they waved back anyway.

Last week while we had a layover in the Memphis airport, I made a quick trip to the bathroom. You already know what kind of crazy stuff happens to us at the airport while I’m in the bathroom, so I wasn’t surprised when I came back and Hubby told me he had just seen someone famous.
“Who was it?”
“I can’t remember her name, but she’s really famous.”
“What did she look like?”
“Blonde, really thin and carrying a really big fancy purse.”
“Well, that covers most of Hollywood. You’re going to have to narrow it down for me.”
“I don’t remember her name, but you’d recognize her. She may be a model, but I think she’s an actress.”

He is possibly the only person in the contiguous United States who doesn’t read TMZ or any of the tabloids, so he’s a little fuzzy on names, but he recognizes faces. He gets them very mixed up with everyday people though, so I figured he had her confused with one of the clerks at the new convenience store in town. For the last week and a half he has labored over this mystery woman, trying to remember who she is.
“I swear she’s really famous.”
“Are you SURE? It was probably just some rich woman on her way to a holiday in Antigua.”
“No. I’m positive. I’m sure she’s a model. There were other skinny women with her. Name some skinny, blonde models.”
“90% of them are skinny and blonde. I can’t name them all. And why would a famous model be in the MEMPHIS airport? LAX or New York, yes. Memphis, no.”
“Pfft. I know what I saw.”
“Okay, baby. You let me know when you figure it out. In the meantime, I want you to lay off the crack.”

Like the Grinch, his puzzler puzzled over it some more and then, wham! Out of the blue as he’s flipping through the channels Sunday night he hollers for me to come into the living room.
“That’s her! There she is! It’s the woman in the airport.”
“Cameron Diaz?! You saw Cameron Diaz at the airport?”
“Hah! That’s the one.”
“Are you sure you weren’t mistaken?”
“I’m positive it was her. She had on a headband just like the one she’s wearing there, and she had two big bodyguards beside her.”
“You saw Princess Fiona at the Memphis airport? With her bodyguards? Was Shrek there too?”
“You can laugh all you want, but I know what I saw.”

I’m still not entirely convinced it was her, but I’m giving Hubby the benefit of the doubt. If you happened to be in the Memphis airport on October 5th and saw Cameron, let me know. As a former journalist, I need to confirm this with a second source before I can consider it true. In the meantime, I’m going down to the convenience store to check out the new clerks.