Alright, my name is Corrin; and I have a confession to make. Up until this Christmas break (2003), I didn’t know who Johnny Depp was. I have now been converted. I mean, I guess I knew who he was, but I never really cared.until one fateful winter day in Paris. My parents split up when I was six and my dad went Paris to open his own gallery/art supply shop. Every summer and alternate Christmas I go and visit him. We generally get along really well, but this year his new girlfriend Vanessa (absolutely no relation whatsoever to Vanessa Paradis.maybe there are just a lot of them in Paris.) caused a few heated discussions. It’s not that I don’t like her or anything, I just like being able to spend time with my dad. Anyhow, so we got in a huge fight and I stormed out of the shop, bought a ticket and hopped on the first Metro that came along. See, the thing about me is that I’m sometimes not all that bright. Needles to say, I wound up in Chaillot. My French is fairly good, but wandering around strange parts of a foreign city in the middle of the night is never a good idea. I was alone, thoroughly miserable, lost, and cold to boot. Here’s a very useful piece of advice, if ever you plan on running away in winter.bring a coat. By now I was beginning to realize the stupidity of my predicament. I started to jog, more out of cold than real anxiety. I was in a fairly nice district at least.there had to be another Metro around someplace. I turned up Rue de Point, basically sprinting. As I ran, something caught my eye or rather, two something’s. A pair of men were sitting on the front steps of a marble building. The older one looked about 60, with a heavy wool coat and salt-and-pepper hair. His companion was.Johnny Depp. I stared. Correction: My head turned and stared, the rest of me kept on running square into a lamppost. The force of the impact knocked me flat on my back, and the “SMACK” of my skull hitting the metal was deafening. My entire left side went numb, and my peripheral vision blacked out. Of all the people on the planet who could have seen me bean myself on a pole, it had to be a celebrity. I peeled myself gingerly to a sitting position. I was in the worst pain of my life. Now, this could have been a very embarrassing situation, thankfully my wit and intelligence saved the day.
“F@#*k! You’re Johnny Depp!”
I astutely observed. He stared at me with a mix of shock, amusement and genuine concern.
“Are you alright?”
I nodded, getting to my feet. The world was spinning. I thought I was going to puke, ‘But hell,’ thought a slightly amused part of my brain, ‘I’ll get to say I puked on Johnny Depp.how cool would that be?’ I tried to walk away with as much dignity as I could muster given the situation, and nearly landed on my head again. Due to geographical location it was that other guy who caught me.damn. If only I’d keeled over a little to the right. He was talking to me in French and I was a bit distracted, but the gist of it was that he thought I should sit down for a moment. I did. Gladly. By now the numbness was fading to be replaced by searing pain in my left arm. I grinned as broadly as I could. Johnny smiled back in that devastatingly charming way that only he can. Hhhhhmmmm..what If I *faked* a swoon?.just a little to the right. I blinked, realizing that the grey haired guy’s last comment had in fact been a question.
“Wha – I mean – Je m’excuse?”
He gestured to my arm, and then asked me if I was okay. I nodded, and to prove to myself, the grey-haired man, and (mostly) Johnny that I was tough, I transferred all my weight until I was leaning on it. I didn’t puke, or scream, but it was a near thing. I think I probably flinched quite significantly and went starch white. Damn, so much for tough. Both men stared. Johnny was watching in sympathy; his companion looked at me like I was a total dumbass. Which, given the situation, I was. By this point I was afraid that I might actually pass out, and they’d have to call the paramedics.which would be bad. So I stood, the world didn’t wobble nearly so much this time.
“Were- how far away do you live?”
Asked Johnny Depp. After I had finished nearly hyperventilating over the fact that he’d spoken to me, I answered.
“Uh – only half a block or so.” I lied.
“Would you like us-“
“No! No, don’t get up, I’m fine, really.”
I said, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, and why I was refusing to let Johnny Depp walk me home. He smiled, still looking a bit concerned.
“If you’re sure.”
“Bye!”
I said hastily, turning to walk away. I’d gone about three steps before a brilliant idea donned on me.
“Umm.Mr. Depp? Would you sign my broken arm?”
I think it took him a long time to conclude that I was serious. (I bet you this was a first.) Then he laughed. OMG, he has this wonderful, musical laugh that has NEVER properly been captured on film. “Sure, do you have a pen?”
I realized to my horror that I didn’t, and vowed to myself that from this day forth I would ALWAYS carry one. I shook my head, probably looking thoroughly dismayed. His older friend (looking at me with a mixture of pity and amusement) produced one. Gingerly, Johnny Depp signed my wrist. He touched my skin lightly, afraid to hurt me, but I could tell that he was trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. I grinned.
“Thank you Mr. Depp” he smiled.
“Any time.”
I nearly swooned again, but this time it had nothing to do with pain. I am the QUEEN of the screaming fan-girls. HUZZZAH!!!
Finally I got home. My dad was less than amused, he didn’t particularly care that I’d met Johnny Depp. I don’t think he would have been impressed if I’d have met Claude Monet. (Who, by the way, is a lot less impressive than Johnny Depp.) But, he took pity on me and we went in to emergency. Not only did I concuss myself thoroughly, I’d broken my arm in three places.but I didn’t care. I had morphine and Johnny Depp’s signature. I am truly the happiest invalid alive.
~Corrin
