5. Aura

In its time Zemblanity has played host to an astonishing number of celebrities. Just this morning, Mr. Charles was telling me about Paul Newman. He came in from time to time before he and his wife moved out of the city. “He was a very impersonal man,” explained Mr. Charles. “He would say ‘Hello Mr. Charles. How do you do, Mr. Charles?’ and that’s about it.” This was back when movies like Cool Hand Luke and Butch Cassidy were coming out. Back when Newman was Newman.

And Marilyn Monroe: "Well, you know I was a designer back when. In fact that's my design on the cover of Vogue there," says Mr. Charles, gesturing to a framed 70's magazine on the wall. "She would come in, wearing nothing but a trench coat and I would bring out a few numbers for her. She would point at one and go into our tiny bathroom to throw it on and walk out wearing it."

In my very brief time at Zemblanity, I have seen a bunch of celebrities and will describe some them for you. The first was not really even what you would call a celebrity. A couple of body guards came in, gigantic dudes in suits who meant business. They asked to see the layout of the building. They cased the place and left. Soon a whole bunch of body guards came in with a family and I led them to the table we had specially reserved. After everyone had been seated, the biggest of all the bodyguards gave me an ornate coin on which was written, ‘Ray Mabus- 75^th Secretary of the Navy.’ “So you know who you’ve helped out tonight,” said the bodyguard.

Hmm. I didn’t know that my tax dollars were going to making ornate coins with people’s names on them. Did you? Outside, late in the evening I started talking to all the bodyguards. I told them that when Oprah was in she had way more bodyguards (this is supposedly true, although the last time she was in was a month before I started working). The bodyguards said that hers probably got paid better than they did. They asked if she left a big tip and I said “As big as Oprah” (which I think is triple entendre) and they all laughed.

Anyhow, this fellow Mabus had just been on the Daily Show and was out for deserts with his family afterward. They all seemed very nice and as “Ol’ Ray” (as I call him) was exiting I said, “Bon Voyage mon Capitan” and saluted him and he laughed. He probably went out and blew some shit up that very night.

The next celebrity was Raven Simone. She was the youngest daughter on the Cosby Show. She apparently also had a show on the Disney Channel but I never saw it. One of my co-workers got so excited that he could barely speak but to me, she just seemed like some random lady who vaguely looked like someone I vaguely remembered. She bought lots trinkets from the store as she left and was happy to take pictures with customers.

The guy after that was some dude from the show Gossip Girl. But as I’ve never seen that show or know anything about it, who cares? Apparently the waiter Patty, who was all a-twitter and took a picture of his credit card receipt with his iPhone. Chase Crawford, I think was his name, and his family was a bunch of wild, likeable hillbillies.

Then I saw Mario Van Peebles. That was neat. He came right up to the host stand and there was some weird visual discombobulance as my brain tried to register why I knew this face. I asked for his name and he said “Van Peebles.” I actually didn’t register who he was until I wrote down “Van Peebles.” You see, there seems to be a good deal of visual and cognitive discord upon seeing a celebrity at first. Your mind is trying to place a make believe character into a setting you have come to believe is cold hard reality. Once realizing that this was a famous person, my manager quickly ushered Mr. Van Peebles and (I assume) his wife and daughter in. When sneaking celebrities in, we just pretend that they had a reservation and we didn’t have it on the list for privacy reasons.

Mario seemed like just about the coolest person I had ever seen. He was kind enough to take a few pictures with patrons and I myself took a number of these photos. My favorite moment was when he was waiting in line for the bathroom. Apparently, no amount of fame will allow you to cut in line for the bathroom. As he was leaving he gave me a little high five and all day I thought “Mario Van Peebles gave me a high five!” I hope he washed his hands in the bathroom.

The Steinbrenner family came in a day or two after the Yankees won the World Series. They are regulars at Zemblanity but there seemed to be nothing extraordinary about them (other than that they own the winningest sports franchise in history). Truth be told, they looked just like a rather bored family dining at Applebee’s.

Danielle Steele came in a couple of times but this was unimpressive for two reasons: (a) The thrill is not the same upon seeing an author because their image is so rarely seen. I don’t think I would be all that surprised to find out that I have seen John Grisham three or four times in my life but never realized it was him. And (b) it’s Danielle Steele and I never read one of her trashy books so who cares?

In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, Walter Benjamin discusses what he calls “auras.” An aura is the magnetic wonderment that a work of art gains when we know it’s history, have proof of its authenticity, know it as being famous and understand the myriad of social relevancies it has gained within the context of its history. This is why people at the Louvre line up to look at and take pictures of the Mona Lisa. They don’t necessarily have any personal understanding or emotional affinity for this little painting but they are drawn by its aura. Here is the singular work from which all of those other images of the Mona Lisa (on billboards, on posters, on pizza parlor signs, etc.) have been manifest. The people at the Louvre get a thrill from the aura, from standing near the singularity, the one source of the great river.

When my friend Nick Jaina was in town from Portland on vacation, he stopped by to pick me up after work. He walked in, had a quick look around and walked out, unimpressed and I think marginally disgusted. I found him outside after my shift was over and he asked, “Why would a celebrity ever want to go there? If I was a celebrity I would want to go somewhere quiet, away from crowds that had the best food.” Well Nick, I gave some thought to your question and this is my best guess-

Like original works of art, places can have powerful auras as well. A place (like the Empire State Building or Wrigley Field or the Hollywood sign) gathers historical significance throughout the years because of what has happened there, famous people who have visited it and so on. While a place is harder to replicate that a work of art, just think of how many times the image of the Empire State Building has been copied or filmed in shows or in movies. Think of how the Hollywood sign is replicated for every Hollywood Video store. Think of all the posters and jackets with Wrigley field on it. These reproductions are without aura. In fact, buildings and structures are subject to replication as well. Without considering replicated constructions like Disneyland or Las Vegas (these places have their own auras), think of the repetition involved in a Starbucks or a McDonald’s. These places also have no, or at least very little, original aura. But let me tell you, standing on the observation deck of the Empire State Building was the real deal. After five and half decades, Zemblanity has very powerful (if odd) aura.

Like art and locations, people can also have auras. If we have seen a celebrity in the news or on TV or in Movies, all of those countless associations become attached to the singular body of that celebrity. So were I to see Sean Connery walk in, I would not only see him, I would see James Bond, the submarine captain in Hunt for the Red October and someone who had a cameo at the end of Robin Hood Prince of Thieves. I would also have personal associations attached to those works, like how I played Robin Hood as a kid and recently read some of the original books that were given to me by my friend Parker (they’re actually pretty rad). So the singularity of the famous individual constitutes a social nexus for everyone who sees them.

My idea is that aura seems to be a sticky substance. The stronger it is, the more associations it picks up so that it gets stronger and stronger through time. It is a sort of conceptual magnetism. It could be that the magnetism of celebrity aura is drawn to the historical aura of the restaurant. The aura of each is increased by the other.

The other theory is that most celebrities are just astonishingly dumb.

Which brings me to Jude Law. He’s been in a few times since I’ve been working, I suppose because he’s in town to play Hamlet. The first time was at the tail end of my shift and he was in to look for trinkets for his daughter. Miss Annette immediately began doting on him and trying to remember what his daughter seemed to like the last time they were in. You should have seen how the mood shifted inside the lobby. Where usually it is packed solid with people, it had now become a maelstrom.

The second time he came in was for his daughter Isis’ birthday. It was curious to see Jude Law with his family and family friends. There were about twelve of them up at table 54 and 55 (the long table). He didn’t seem to want to sit still, always up and walking to the other end of the table, always very animated. He asked me for a pen, asked to see the waiter, told me they were ready for cake.

Well, Miss Annette is the queen of birthdays. She remembers everyone’s birthdays, even the busboys and makes sure they are appropriately sung to and get their free sundae. She takes birthdays seriously, maybe because she’s had so many of them. Anyhow, the Laws went home happy, Isis’ birth having been appropriately celebrated.

The last one was strange. I was told to reserve table 32 because Bob someone was coming in and he might be bringing Barbra Walters. I didn’t care. I was hungry. So I went back to the kitchen and got my lunch. I sat down to eat at table 37 which faces table 32 and when the table was filled, it wasn’t Barbra Walters at all. It was Sarah Palin and her daughters and her publicist. I started laughing to myself. Here was the person I had so reviled and ridiculed during the campaign and now she was sitting a couple of feet away from me, eating a hot dog (which is coincidentally what Oprah ate when she was in). I don’t think any of the staff actually liked her and so no one tried to protect her from the people trying to take pictures with her. In fact, one waiter actively tried to tell his customers to go over and ask for a picture. It turned into a messy traffic jam around her table and I had a front row seat. It was probably the least peaceful meal anyone has ever tried to eat.

A picture was taken with Sarah Palin and Mr. Charles, arm in arm and smiling with the bizarre nouveau swirls and Christmas decorations behind them. Admiring the picture, Mr. Charles said with his devilish little slanty smile, “Look at us. Two darling little media whores.” Mr. Charles is funny.

Only ten minutes after she left, I seated a nice family of four at table 32. “Sir,” I said, “you wouldn’t believe it but ten minutes ago, Sarah Palin was sitting right where you are now.”

“Oh, really?” said the man. He squirmed uncomfortably. “Do you think I could change seats?”