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My New Year’s w/ Rickles & Spelling

As I alluded to yesterday, one of the comps I got out of the Paris Hotel and Casino was two free nights room and a couple tickets to see Don Rickles on New Year’s Eve. I don’t recommend Vegas for New Year’s. The drive, which usually takes me a little more than three and a half hours took eight. I’m not exaggerating. The casinos hike their table minimums way up and close their doors to non-hotel guests. My friend and I actually had to play the “We know the pit boss” card to get into the Barbary Coast (it’s crappy but I love it there).

Back to Rickles. I brought a couple friends to Vegas but could only bring my partner in crime (or so I thought) Courtney to his show. We were delighted to find that our fourth row center seats were a couple rows better than the ones Aaron Spelling, Paramount Studios chief Sherry Lansing, Ernest Borgnine, Linda Thompson and a few other movers and shakers had. My friend had seen Rickles in Vegas before and promised he was awesome. He started out strong and then… plunk. I was a bit disappointed. Almost half of his hour-long show was singing and the response to much of his comedy material was somewhat tepid. But it was free, so I couldn’t complain.

When the show was over, the audience worked its way out and we noticed Rickles on the edge of the stage talking to some guests. Courtney and I decided to hang out a bit and see if we could meet him. Neither of us is the starstruck type so we probably had some delusional notion that he’d see us as two cute female comics and want to make us his prot?g? ’s. Believe me, we wouldn’t cut into our gambling time just to meet some celebrity unless we thought he could help our careers. We stayed in our seats a little too long and by the time we got up to approach him, he’d left the stage.

We noticed all the VIP’s being led to a side door. I grabbed my friend and we jumped in line. She was nervous about being caught. I asked where her sense of adventure was and told her to just act like we belong. I figured what have we got to lose? The worst that could happen is they’d kick us out, which in itself would be a funny story. The best that could happen is we’d leave with development deals to star in the next bad Spelling vehicle.

She wasn’t thrilled with the idea but she went along and we made our way through the door (even the security at the Paris sucks). As we were all standing in a hallway waiting to squeeze into a small reception room, the Borgnines made small talk with us. Fucking Courtney panicked and blurted, “We must have gone through the wrong door. We shouldn’t be here.” I inflicted multiple mental stab wounds upon her. “We’re just a couple comics who wanted to meet Mr. Rickles.”

Tova Borgnine, who’s a close personal friend as opposed to a MySpace friend of Don Rickles sweetly said, “It won’t be a problem. Go on in and meet him.” Cool! I had my pass. I squeezed my way in (the room was seriously that small- conversation with the bigwigs was inevitable) and grabbed an appetizer and a glass of champagne (I had to look like I belonged there, right)? As I glanced around, I spotted Courtney, still standing in the hallway looking like a naughty puppy who’d pooped on the living room carpet. I motioned for her to get in there but she wouldn’t. I would have even been fine with her leaving altogether. As it was, I was totally embarrassed and couldn’t pretend like I belonged with her standing there like that so we escaped in a hurry. Instead of enjoying an intimate party with Hollywood’s elite, we braved the freezing strip to join the mob of revelers puking, pissing and passing out.

I’m still a little bitter about the whole incident but I guess I now have a story to tell Don Rickles if I ever do meet him.

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