I woke up this morning to an overcast sky. I was on the floor of my
apartment in the Carleton Hotel. It wasn't because I couldn't make it into bed
last night; rather, all the hotels are so booked up that I couldn't garner a
comfy mattress for myself. As everyone in the room began to wake up, we
discussed last night's amfAR event.
With men in tuxedos and women in ball-gowns, I stood in the hotel lobby yesterday feeling like a father sending his child to prom. I would have loved to attend the amfAR event myself, but the exclusivity of the event forbid the opportunity. So I stood in the atrium absorbing the prefab excitement like a sponge. Within our party there were a few well-known faces.
Doctor James D. Watson, Nobel laureate and former director of the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, was escorted by his wife Liz, who
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My palms strangled my thighs as I sat in the back of the Mercedes-Benz cab. As
we raced through a gauntlet of windy narrow side streets I couldn't help
thinking we would crash before arriving at the hotel. Although I'm a bit
hungry and overtired from the 7+hour flight, I'm smiling because I just
arrived in France for the 62nd Annual Cannes Film Festival.
As we pull up to the Carleton Hotel my brother turns to me with a look of shock and awe. "This is not what I remember," he says. The scene resembles a Hollywood lot more closely than the Cote d'Azur. It is the middle of May but the hotel lawn is frosted with pearly white snow. Draped between two Christmas trees is a poster for Jim Carey's upcoming film A Christmas Carol. Just across the drive, a statue of "Bumble Bee", a character from this summer's sequel
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