Time magazine reports that you can now hire personal paparazzi to follow you around
like you're some big-shot celebrity. You can pay freelance photographers to chase
you, shove cameras in your face and shout intrusive personal questions. Apparently
it's becoming the next big thing for teen birthday parties and GenXers.
Why should young people have all the fun? I'm wondering if it might not be just the
thing for our 30th wedding anniversary next month. Wouldn't the husband be
surprised?
I can see it now: We emerge from the restaurant after a leisurely dinner. A small
herd of photographers materialize from nowhere; flashes light up the night; the whir
of motor drives pierce the air and a crowd begins to gather.
There's shoving and pushing, and the crowd of night-time revelers, most in their
mid-20s, stampedes over the husband and me, wondering where the beautiful people
are.
It's hard to picture either of us attracting a crowd. Tripping and sprawling on the
pavement might draw a second look. Maybe being hit by a falling piano could draw a
crowd of four or five if you count the paramedics, but other than that, we're just
not the faux celebrity type.
Oh, I suppose we could give ourselves the Hollywood edge by wearing sunglasses at
night. Then again, at our age, it could just mean we had our eyes dilated at the
optometrist's office.
Even if we were temporarily mistaken for celebs, what kind of questions would
paparazzi shout to a couple like us?
"Is it true you're still using Tupperware you got as shower gifts 30 years ago?"
"No comment," I'd snap, shielding my eyes from the incessant flashes with my hands.
"Did you choose this four-star restaurant because the husband had a
buy-one-get-one-entrée-free coupon?"
"Balderdash!" the husband would snap. This would be an opportune time for me to
pause, smile, and give that Reese Witherspoon over-the-shoulder pose.
"Do you think being faithful to one another has hurt your chance at political office?"
Outraged at such a personal question, the husband and I would start running in an
attempt to lose the paparazzi. Of course, we would be running and running for many
city blocks, because the husband, no doubt, would have insisted on metered street
parking (free after 6) which is much cheaper than paying for valet parking.
Once the paparazzi found out how far they would have to run they would drop like flies.
Paparazzi for hire is actually very logical. If you run out of celebs to harass, why
not offer your skills to the masses? After all, we do live in self-obsessed times
with an endless bottom to the narcissistic well.
Such faux fame comes with a price tag, anywhere in the neighborhood of $250 to
$1500. If you still have money to burn, you can purchase a package deal that
includes a bouncer to handle the crowd (should you be so lucky to draw a crowd).
There was no firm dollar amount, however, for what one must pay to forgo privacy,
stable mental health or have your car run off the road.
