Beautiful people are elusive

You can tell the Super Bowl’s drawing closer because of the celebrity sightings hitting the rumor reports.

Jennifer Lopez was at the Galleria on Wednesday. So were Cameron Diaz, Hugh Hefner, Matthew Perry, Lil Romeo and Justin Timberlake. Madonna dropped in on a Starbucks. At least that’s the word on the streets.

I need proof, so I headed over to the Galleria on Thursday for a celebrity search.

You’re probably thinking I didn’t see any stars. You know my luck by now. But you would be wrong. Very wrong.

To read the full article by David Thomas,
Star-Telegram Staff Writer, about the Celebrity-Watching frenzy that hits Houston in these days before the Superbowl, just click on the link below

It only took about 45 seconds before I was standing face to face with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. They were on a poster advertising their movie 50 First Dates. But I wanted to see real, live celebrities.

As I was saying goodbye to Adam and Drew, a young man on the other side of the advertisement surveyed the mall directory as he placed a call on his cell phone. “Hey, where you at?” he asked. “I’ll be right there.”

Bodyguard separated from his celebrity? I followed at a safe, non-stalker distance as he entered Nordstrom. Of course, that’s the perfect place to find a star, and he was headed directly toward someone with long, blonde hair standing near the gray-haired man playing a piano. Jessica Simpson? Possibly. Even more interesting, I wasn’t following Nick Lachey. This could be good.

He walked up behind Jessica and grabbed her hand. She turned and smiled at him. I hope Not-Nick and Not-Jessica are a happy couple, because I wasn’t.

I decided to go it alone and made my first stop at Primarily Purple, a Texas-themed store. The woman behind the counter said, yes, she has seen celebrities. Patrick Ewing had been in her store. J-Lo had been downstairs the day before, although she didn’t get to see her.

“There have been some rappers walk past,” she said, “but I don’t know them.”

My next stop was Field of Dreams, which sells autographed sports memorabilia. Edgerrin James, Daunte Culpepper, Jerry Rice and Eric Dickerson had been by Wednesday. But no J-Lo. The place looked ready for her, though – I saw an autographed picture of Matt Damon, but not Ben Affleck.

Then, finally, a sure path to a celebrity.

“Regis,” the sign said and pointed straight ahead. Maybe he brought Kelly Ripa with him, I hoped. The arrow only pointed me toward more disappointment and a hair salon, with no Regis or Kelly inside.

I thought I’d have a good chance at Saks Fifth Avenue. Several women were having makeup applied, so I had to look closely to recognize a celebrity.

“Can I help you?” a store employee interrupted.

“Just looking,” I said.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

I wanted to say, “Yeah, Jennifer Lopez,” but excused myself and left the store.

Walked through a Starbucks. No Madonna.

Walked by a Victoria’s Secret. No way. Even if J-Lo had been in there, how could I explain to my wife that I met her while I was looking around Victoria’s Secret?

Frustrated, I headed toward Neiman Marcus. Again a bunch of women in makeup that I’m not sure even some of their husbands would have recognized at the moment. So on to the second floor, where I thought I had caught a break.

“Katie!” a female voice exclaimed.

Segal? Ooh, Katie Couric? Maybe I misunderstood, and she had seen k.d. lang.

Nope. Only Katie the women’s shoes associate. Katie may be able to recognize a pair of Blahniks from 50 feet, but that doesn’t make her a celebrity.

After re-energizing with a Wetzel Dog and fresh lemonade, I set out for one last effort.

Bingo! A TV camera man walked past. He would lead me to J-Lo, or any other celebrity for that matter. So I followed him, again at a safe, non-stalking distance. He made a left turn, headed down the hallway and through the doors to the parking lot.

If he was giving up, I figured, so should I.

I exited the mall and looked to my right. There was Jim Nantz. I’ll take him.

And that’s the story I’ll tell my grandkids of the day I saw J-Nan at the Galleria.

Source: Star Telegram