Loyal Moviepie readers will recall my Ode To John Corbett from 2005, and I couldn't be happier to report that after 15 long years, my dream came true: I met John Corbett. And I didn't choke like I normally do when I meet someone famous. Strangely enough, I had made peace with the fact that it hadn't happened, and I sort of assumed that now it never would. Then it all fell in my lap, just like a perfectly scripted fairy tale.
At the beginning of summer, our ABC affiliate in Seattle randomly started showing episodes of Northern Exposure on Saturday nights. It's probably been ten years since I watched the show, but of course I was sucked right in. Then on the 4th of July I actually wound up in Roslyn for the first time in ages. I paid my usual visit to the old KBHR set, which is still very much intact, even though the records are literally warping off the walls. I had a little "John Moment" as I stood there, and vaguely wondered whether he ever came back to his old stomping grounds.
The very next day I picked up a copy of The Seattle Weekly (which I seldom do), and inside was a big old ad for The John Corbett Band. Playing the Suncadia Resort in Roslyn. On August 11th. Oh my god! It was 80 miles away, but totally doable. I just needed a buddy and I'd be all set, but would anyone agree to go? Happily the answer was yes. Not only did Moviepie Linda agree to accompany me, but our good friends agreed to meet us at their cabin in Ronald so we wouldn't have to drive all the way back to Seattle at midnight.
As the big day approached, I began to feel more and more like a little kid at Christmas. All I had ever really wanted was to get my picture taken with John, and somehow I felt like it was finally going to happen. I carefully packed a permanent marker and my old Chris-in-the-Morning shirt for him to sign, and as Linda and I left the cabin and headed for the show, everyone sort of looked at me and said, "Um, you seem to think you're going to meet him. What's the plan?" I had to admit that there was no plan, but this did nothing to dampen my spirits.
After a scrumptious dinner at the renowned Village Pizza, we headed over to Suncadia, a half-finished golf resort that feels a lot like the middle of nowhere. Like so many locals, I cringed a little when I heard they were building this monstrosity, but if my evening was indicative of the kind of fun that can be had there, I'm not about to complain. We parked, piled on a school bus, and went even deeper into the woods. We were dropped by the fairway (designed by Arnold Palmer, incidentally), and even though the opening band was already on, there were plenty of great spots still available. We set our blankets in prime territory, and about 10 minutes later, John was out. He talked about how good it was to be back, told little Northern Exposure anecdotes, and basically just rocked out.
During the first song, a bunch of girls stood up and blocked my view, so I got up and went down by the speaker. I figured that way the only thing I would be blocking was the speaker, but it put me 10-12 feet away from him, and once in awhile, his voice would rip through the speaker and rattle my lungs. Excellent! Every now and then he would look right at me, and as soon as I realized that he was really RIGHT THERE after all these years, my legs literally started to shake.
Dave the Cook from Northern Exposure was in the audience, and John quickly spotted him and introduced him. Between songs, he knelt down at the edge of the stage and gave him a big hug and put a kiss in Dave's hair - easily one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. His Chris-in-the-Morning stand-in was there too, and despite the years that have passed, it felt like old home week. The show wound down after about two hours, and sometime before the last song, he said, "I love you guys! We'll be at The Brick after the show." You can bet I turned to Linda and said, "We're goin' to The Brick!" For those not in the know, The Brick is the oldest continuously-run tavern in Washington State and served as Holling's bar on Northern Exposure.
We headed into town after finding our way out of the woods, found a great parking spot and went on into The Brick. We waited in line for the bathroom, then found ourselves with our noses powdered and nothing to do. A drunk guy pulled on my sleeve like a little kid and slurred, "Why's everybody hanging out back here?" I just shook my head. The women's toilet is back here, dummy! We decided to go outside. Apart from a few stragglers and a lonely black Lab, the street was deserted, and it was trippy knowing that we were walking the streets of Cicely as the weekly rerun of Northern Exposure was airing down in Seattle.
Still no sign of John, so we sat on the steps of The Brick and just waited. And then a white van pulled up, and we knew it would either have to contain the band or the residents of a group home. They ducked inside before I could pick John out of the pack, but we were hot on their heels. I had the shirt in my hand, permanent pen ready, but of course he was scooped up as soon as he got in the door. The bartender was loading him up with a beer, and I was just waiting for my moment. All the while my heart was sinking. The woman next to me was walking her fingers up his spine uninvited, and a little gaggle of Sex in the City types were talking about him in the third person, even though he was RIGHT THERE. I had this awful feeling that even within arm's reach I'd never be able to compete with the noise or the more aggressive fans. By then they were asking us all to move out of the doorway, and I knew that once everyone found out he was there it would be all over for me.
At that moment, he sort of looked over the heads of the people in front of me and caught my eye. I gave him a little wave and he gave me a look like, "you're next". Once he'd smiled and nodded at all the right things, he said to me, "Whatcha got there?" I held up the shirt, and said, "You!" And he said, "You look familiar, do I know you?" and 15 years of waiting for this moment flashed before my eyes. It was so freaking loud, but I said, "I wrote to you and you wrote back and you were lovely." He said, "But have we met?" And I realized he'd been looking at me at the concert for 2 hours, so I said, "I was at the concert." And he took the shirt, looked at the bar and said, "This is all wet. I'll have to sign on your back." He wrote a sweet inscription, and before I lost him, I asked if I could get a real picture with him. I slid under his arm, and Linda snapped it. My eyes are closed, but that's kind of appropriate. It's a bliss face.
Then people swarmed again and we weren't really done, but it was so loud I knew I'd never get to talk to him properly - I couldn't yell if my life depended on it - and when I looked behind me, Linda had already ducked out on the street due to claustrophobia, so I went out after her. John still has my pen, and I have my very own Cinderella story.
This, my friends, is what it looks like when a dream comes true:
And this is why you should never waste time regretting what hasn't happened yet. It may take fifteen years, but there's always hope.
