Starstruck

En route to Portland Center Stage's production of Cabaret tonight, Drew and I spotted trash cinema guru John Waters entering Powell's City of Books. At first I felt tongue-tied and weak-kneed at the prospect of talking to the gleefully twisted genius behind Pink Flamingos, Hairspray and Serial Mom, but before I knew it I found myself chasing him into the bargain section, calling out "John" as though he were my best friend in the world. His ensemble of grey clothing perfectly matched his greying hair.

In short, I told him that I love his work, and that I named my cats Chicklet and Confetta after two brassy teenage delinquents in his magnum opus Female Trouble (in the film the second gal is actually named Concetta, but I always preferred my variation).

I didn't want to bother him for long, but I did ask what he's doing in Portland, and he replied that he's interviewing someone for a book he's working on. I didn't have the heart to badger him about the details. He clearly had some shopping to do, after all.