If someone told me that I would end up wildly dancing with Felicity Huffman and her husband William H. Macy at a late night Golden Globes post-party, I would have said, Yeah, right.
But that’s exactly what happened.
Leaving Universal’s star-studded rooftop bash, I decide to hit the night’s second best party, the Warner Bros./In Style bash. One packed elevator ride and a race through the lobby and I was inside, passing Virginia Madsen and Globe winner Sandra Oh (signing autographs for screaming fans) leaving the party.
Fearing that the party had peaked causing a mass exodus of celebs, I grumble and push my way through the crowd of civilians to the small outdoor garden space for smokers where, I’m told, the “Good Night, and Good Luck” and “Syriana” folks (think George Clooney!) are hanging out.
But all I can see is the top half of the heads of several “Grey’s Anatomy” stars’ like Katherine Heigl and Isaiah Washington. After standing on tippy-toes looking for Clooney, I give up and go back inside so I can return to the lobby and head to the Weinstein party in Trader Vic’s.
I bet that’s where everyone’s hiding, I think. But before I’m out the door, Kim Painter, Carrie Fisher‘s perky assistant, sees me and shouts “Where have you been? George Clooney and Stan Rosenfield, his publicist just left!”
Where did they go? “To the CAA party.”
Double damn. That’s where all the big stars go when they’re fed up with being interviewed, photographed and congratulated or consoled after the Globes. I was definitely not on that exclusive guest list and no amount of smiling was gonna get me in, even if I knew where it was and I didn’t.
Then I spot the back of Macy’s head, moving through the crowd. I recognized him by the ears. Sorry, Bill.
I follow in his wake, figuring he might lead me to Felicity Huffman. Suddenly, I realize that I’m in the middle of the darn dance floor. Everyone around me is hopping up and down and flailing their arms. Bill is boogeying with a writhing Felicity to the blaring sounds of “Oh-oh-oh-oh, sweet child of my-e-ine”, which judging by her hair-tossing enthusiam, must be one of her favorite songs.
Well, there was nothing else to do but join in the post Globes frenzy and dance right along with Bill and Flicka, as I like to think they’d let me call them. Woo-hoo, I shouted, just like everyone else. Woo-hoo!
But after two songs, I was pooped. Felicity was clearly just getting warmed up but I needed to do a drive-by at Harvey and Bob’s bash.
Photo: "Transamerica" Globe winner Felicity Huffman finds her inner exotic dancer at the Warner/InStyle Golden Globes party.
(Michael Caulfield / WireImage)
]]>Trader Vic’s was pretty empty by then (11-ish p.m.) but there were a few stars inside the tented outside party. That’s when I spotted my third dancing actress of the night. In the news biz, three makes a trend. So 2006 is now officially “The Year of the Dancing Actresses."
Sandra Oh had kicked off her shoes and was wildly gyrating in a corner to “Sweet Home Alabama,” the same song Knightley had danced to earlier at the Universal bash. Hey, did these three actresses practice their dance routines? Was this trio of dancers just the result of clever party planning?
On “Anatomy,” Oh’s symptoms would surely have been diagnosed as a series of nonfatal seizures. But she sure seemed to be having mega-fun, dancing with a male pal and a smoking (literally) Zorianna Kit, former reporter at Hollywood Reporter and People.
Seeing all the commotion, even Joan and Melissa Rivers came by, waving their hands in the air as if they were dancing as they walked by.
Which, eventually, is what I do too. I’d had quite enough dancing for one night. After all, the awards season is young. I gotta pace myself.