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CHAPTER SEVEN - 03:10am to 03:15am As Johnny heads towards us I decide right there and then that 'hero worship' and 'nerves' are both evils of the first water. I mean, you follow someone's comings & goings, dying to have the chance to meet them, and kick yourself hard when you miss an appearance somewhere in your own back yard… And then - finally, finally when you get that once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet your hero offered up to you on a plate - you completely lose it. And I do mean completely. With a capital 'C'. Your intelligence deserts you; your sense of humour hides in your boots until the whole thing's over; and all those bright, interesting questions that you've carefully prepared just float away through the top of your head in little invisible bubbles… I can hear them bursting in the quiet night air as Johnny approaches where we're standing. He's still in full evening dress, and the black & white contrast of his clothes, face and hair is even more startling up close. But I'm so nervous I can hardly focus on him, because my do-or-die moment is upon me... "Mr Depp, would you mind signing this for me?" My voice comes out as a hard-edged strangled squeak because my throat's so contracted with nerves. "Sure." Oh! That's his voice!! And he's talking to me!!! |
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I thrust my 'Dead Man' book into his hand, already opened ready for him to sign, and give him my biro. Then I realise that I should have explained what the book was - don't want him to think that he's being duped into signing something completely inappropriate! - so I grab the book back out of his hand and turn the cover back for him to read the title. (Great start, irene.) It's not very likely that he can read the title in this half-light anyway, and I've probably done it too fast for him to focus on it. "It's a book on Dead Man - it's my favourite film of yours." "Oh, OK." [He's probably thinking: 'I made that film 7 years ago. Doesn't she like anything more recent than that?'] He takes the book back and holds it up to sign it, and suddenly there's this weird white light shining on the open pages of the book… I look up and realise that one of the biggest security men is standing right beside us, holding a tiny flashlight over the proceedings. These guys think of everything! |
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| "Who
shall I make it out to?" Johnny asks me, with the biro poised above
the page. He's looking right at me and in the gloom his eyes are completely
black and fathomless. I'm both shocked and delighted that he's actually
going to personalise it, and I think of what I want written. Shall I ask
him to make it out 'to Irene and everyone at the Zone'? Or do I want this
just for little me?.. If I mention the Zone, he might ask what that's
about and then things might start to get complicated.. And after all,
it is my little book…Hmmm, decisions, decisions.. and the
inside of my head is spinning so fast that I can't seem to get a grip
on an answer. In the meantime Johnny is waiting patiently, biro poised,
no doubt thinking 'For heaven's sake, this woman is so petrified she can't
even remember her own name.' Finally I spit out "To Irene. Please.
Thank you."
Johnny starts writing. But rather than savour the moment, I decide that it's time to say the only thing that's still stored in the left-luggage locker that used to be my brain. "And about 100 people have asked me to say thank you for making all of your movies. We really love them." He glances up and makes that characteristic protesting noise that he does whenever he's complimented on his work. "Oh no.. Well.. That's very sweet. Thank you." And his mouth twitches briefly at the corners before he resumes writing his inscription. |
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| Now is the first time I've really had the chance to look at him, and I'm both surprised and fascinated by what I see. The word that immediately springs into my head is 'ethereal'. And the second is 'delicate' - which comes as the surprise given that he's such a lithe, active man. And the third is 'incredibly fine-boned'. I feel like a lumbering giant beside him although he's a lot taller than me. He's looking down as he writes but I can scarcely bear to look at his face because I feel it's almost cheating to do that. So I look mainly at his hands. Such fine artistic fingers! Very creative, delicate hands... | |
| And suddenly Johnny's finished writing and he looks up and hands the book back to me. I mumble some idiotic thanks and he turns to Caroline to do the same for her. And once he's done that he shakes her hand. I hurriedly shift my book to my left hand because I'd love to be able to shake his hand too and thank him properly, and I can tell by the slight movement of his head that he's immediately aware of that. He turns back to me and shakes my hand, saying "Nice to have met you." This is the time when Caroline and I should be diving in with loads of questions and he pauses, waiting for us to say something more. But both of us just stand there, grinning inanely and thanking him. I'm very aware of the men waiting for him in the car, and that it's 3am and he must be exhausted from the night's shoot. Plus my brain is now running on empty since I made my little speech earlier on. | |
| So Johnny gets into the car, glancing back at us in case there's one last thing we want to say, and they close the door on him. The window's already turned down, and as the car moves slowly away he leans out to wave back to us. But we haven't rediscovered our courage or our humour enough yet to wave back or shout goodbye. | |
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And, of course, as soon as he's disappeared up the road we both relax and start talking twenty to the dozen! And the questions I wanted to ask him about 'Neverland' come pouring back into my brain. Drat! And Double-drat!! We both head back to the bench and cross-check our impressions of meeting Johnny. I try to read the inscription that he's written in my book but I can hardly make it out in the darkness, so Caroline reads it out for me. And she jokingly compares Johnny's signature with the one on her paper to confirm they're the same. I
check my watch and we conclude that we got to meet the great Johnny
Depp at 03:15am on Tuesday 20th August 2002.
A date to be entered in my perpetual calendar, I think. |
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