A Silly Late September Daydream

by Shelt Garner

A long, long time ago, I was somewhat “famous” in Seoul. And, during the course of this brief period in my life I managed to meet a few people famous “IRL,” namely Jennifer 8. Lee, then of The New York Times. I only bring this up because last night I had an amusing dream involving meeting my favorite supermodel, Emily Ratajkowski.

Now, let me be clear — I am never meeting Ms. Ratajkowski in real life. Or, to put it another way, I would have to literally win the lottery or sell a breakout first novel for me to get anywhere near to such an event happening.

But I like a good scenario and so, as such, I’ve found myself gaming out how I might meet Ms. Ratajkowski.

The first way is obvious — I sell my first novel, it’s a huge success and I find myself in her celebrity circles that way. While that’s at least possible — I hope — it’s extremely improbable. Or, if it did happen, I would be so old that it just wouldn’t be as much fun as it might otherwise be.

Meanwhile, there is a scenario that is just as unlikely, but a lot more fun to game out. This one involves me “somehow” falling into some money sooner rather than later and deciding to go back to Asia one last time before I shuffle off this mortal coil.

For this to work, Ms. Ratajkowski would have to be in Seoul for some reason AND she would have to be at, say, the W Hotel — a place I know a little bit about. I’ve been there a few times and it’s probably the most elite hotel this poor boy from Southside Virginia has ever been. Now, this is where things get murky.

I’m a really good talker — especially when intoxicated (I know, all drunks say that) — and if I was in Seoul and she was in Seoul at the W Hotel there and I could somehow wiggle my way to at least being near her on the dancefloor on night, then given that when it comes to a beautiful woman I have nerves of steel (usually) I think I could at least chat her up a little bit.

And that would be that. I could probably have about a two or three minute conversation with her before she realized I was drunk and poor and then her security team would step in and end the “moment” we might have. But I would have gotten what I wanted — just a brief moment of her time.

Anyway. Carry on. That’s never going to happen.

Author: Shelton Bumgarner

I am the Editor & Publisher of The Trumplandia Report

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