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Interviewing Drew This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

As I stood looking around the vivacious room filled with kneepads galore, camera crews sprouting from the cement and Drew Barrymore smiling and signing autographs—It took me a second to jolt my body into reality. I was stuck in a surreal haze. The atmosphere of the building held a miraculous glow. My memories of the event begin fully in one distinct moment. This experience ignited once I shifted my phone's buttons to “silent.” With that cue, I hushed all anxieties and bothers—and just breathed.

All of a sudden, I could see. The world I had been plopped into started to shed layers and expose its glorious colors; colors that became prominent after the stressors of the day fell alongside the dusk. Surrounding all of us were magnificent displays of car head shields. These glass figures plastered the coating that rimmed the establishment. Unremarkable vehicle fixtures symbolize the entire night! It was extraordinary to notice a normal item becoming beyond normal. As I took a second look at the tinted glass protectors, I glanced again at the extensive line of patrons that awaited a brief connection with Drew Barrymore. I reanalyzed the posters and insignificant advertisements on insignificant flyers that fluttered from palm to palm continuously. I saw in a new light the people behind-the-scenes and detected the fatigue and utter happiness in their eyes. How fortunate was I, to be a bystander in all of this? There were hubbubs left and right, nevertheless, everyone seemed so content. And this made me smile.

As the hours lulled on, I grew increasingly more awestruck. Everything was just so...cool. It was a parade of funky attitudes in funky outfits. I admired the courage and grace of each individual. There were men with raggedy-glamour carrying petite fluffy dogs. Many cascading neon hair styles were suitably complemented with skull clips, tinsel stockings and tattoos. Canvases decked the halls and splatters of paint danced upon the walls. It was Inspiration Station. I kept seeing look-a-likes of celebrities out of the corners of my eyes. But lo! The only recognizable face was that of the lovely Drew. I was astonished at her fabulous aura. She saw and talked to every person there. It was heartwarming. The inner light that she possesses exploded and filled the room until the crevasses of the corners begged for space. An outrageous number of ceiling fans spun above us, but even they could not soothe the heated passion that Drew had for her work and her fans. In a time of such shallow and masked society, to see such genuine sincerity from her gave me hope. It also made me want to lovingly acknowledge more simple things in my daily life. Drew has probably been to a million events such as this—but she treated this one as if it was the first and only. What if all of us took each moment in its full splendor? Why must we bore and tire from things that hold so much potential to be exquisite?

After many snips of film, clicks of pens and folding of indoor sunglasses... It ended as soon as it began. Drew said goodbye and headed upstairs. We hurried up and waited until it was our turn to interview. We were all exhausted. I longed for a pair of roller blades like the derby girls had sported minutes before. My feet were throbbing. Finally, we climbed the stairs to the loft.

It was breathable and elegant. Art laid in messily organized groups. The pictures appeared to have hatched from the floorboards ages ago and had so many stories to tell. Part of me wanted to see if there was dust on the paintings, although I decided against it. If there was dust, then it was part of the artistic vision. Everything was in its right place. I loved it.

It was so interesting to see Drew Barrymore playing the part of Drew Barrymore. She had her own quirks and physicality that was so unique to her. It was a pleasure talking with her and hearing her truthful and thought out answers. One thing that stuck out to me was how she really listened to what we had to say. She shared her spotlight graciously and allowed us to feel important. I blinked and the interview ended. There were blurs of professional courtesy and humble “thank yous.” Before I knew it, Drew and her people had left the building. All that remained was her Starbucks. The leather couch still held an impression from where she was occupying 2 minutes before. I sighed an unexplainable sigh, picked up my purse, and exited the same door she did. But as we stepped onto the parking lot, all traces of the hard-core and stunning Drew Barrymore had vanished. She had moved on to her next event and we had to move on to our homes where a cold dinner was waiting. It was, in fact, just another day.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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