A Martinez at the Hotel Martinez

            After attending the premiere of How to Talk to Girls at Parties, a group of us decided that we wanted to get drinks before we went back to get ready for the after party. We headed down the strip of five star hotels and stumbled upon the Martinez. This was THE place to go. Rihanna posted a pic on one of these balconies a few days earlier and there was a lot of buzz of all the different stars staying at this luxurious place.

I am not sure how many of you all got to experience the glory that is The Martinez, but it goes something like this. We pulled up to the hotel and had to blink a few times to make sure what we were seeing was real. Hundreds of “civilian peasants” standing behind the barricade, just waiting to catch a glimpse of the A and B list celebrities exiting the hotel to enter their black festival cars. I mean this is sort of ridiculous: why are they waiting just to see someone get into a car? Oh wait—I would totally do that if I were a just tourist passing through trying to spot the stars. But with our glorious market badges, we can take this celeb hunting one step further. With all of the people fighting to get to the front of the barricade, we barely spotted a tiny entrance with four security guards that supposedly we could enter through. This right here was the boujeeist thing I have ever done. We timidly hold up our badges to the guards, and they smile and welcome us in through the mass of people. We’re in. Taking advantage of this exclusiveness, I look back and saw the entire mass of people just staring at us blankly. In my head I’m thinking “I’m literally a student who has done absolutely nothing in comparison to the other people at this festival but because I have the same badge as them I can get into the same places as them but these people don’t know that so they just think I’m famous and successful so wow this is cool.” Then we entered through the doors.

            There are several people loitering in the lobby as well, but they actually looked important, so we kept moving. To the right of us, we passed by two men holding hawks. Why were they holding hawks? Because they Cannes. Also they were for the celebs to hold and take pics with. Okay, cool I guess? Slowly but surely, just to make sure we wouldn’t miss anyone walking out, we make our way over to the restaurant/bar. A waitress seated us outside. This place was packed with, I’m assuming, producers, directors, rich people, etc. having their pre-premiere drinks. I glance at the table next to us and there was a lady with dark hair and sunglasses on, so I though “she’s probably famous she looks like it.”  I opened the menu and cringed, but in a good way. The cheapest drink was 9 euros, not bad, but if you’re at this hotel, you gotta go hard or go home. A specialty fruity cocktail catches my eye. This drink is called a Martinez and only 24 euros. Not bad, so I go for it. We ordered our drinks and then Kate and I went to go make a pit stop.

            Wandering slowly through the halls of the lobby, we make our way to the bathroom. On our way back from the bathroom, we noticed quite a bit of people hanging out in the lobby, so we decided to loiter with the others. A few people in their gowns, probably models, passed by us as they exited the hotel, but we had no idea who they were. We were gone from the table for so long that Sara decided to come join us. While Kate was on her phone and Sara was facing the other way, I looked up, and spotted an angel walking right by me. I had to keep my chill, and as you all know by now, is very hard for me to do when it comes to celebrities. I could not help my self and let out a gasp as Julianne Moore gracefully passed right by us, followed by her posse of three. I could not vocalize my emotions in this moment because well that would be embarrassing as she was right next to us. Needing to express my excitement in this moment, I grabbed Kate’s arm, rather forcefully, and whispered as quietly as I could “Julianne Moore.” She grabbed my arm back, and we just stood there in awe as she exited the hotel and entered her car.

We walked back to the table after a few minutes of reflecting, still shaking from the adrenaline that just ran through my body. We tell the table about our experience, trying to stay calm. Okay, it happened, we moved on. Kind of. The waitress returns with our expensively beautiful drinks. A moment later I find my fruity cocktail not in the glass, but splattered onto my dress, forming a pool in my seat. The entire table, my self included, sat there for a moment with our mouths dropped. As the waitress overly apologized, throwing towels onto me to clean up the mess, I did not feel anger, I did not feel frustration. I felt relief, and so did my wallet. After the spill, we never saw our waitress again. I guess she went into hiding. A lady walks past our table and Kate grabs my arm quickly and firmly: a new secret code we created to let someone know a star is in our vicinity without having to speak. As she and the rest of the table were squeamishly giggling I kept looking around to find who they saw. Turns out the lady I mentioned earlier with the dark hair and sunglasses at the table next to us was Desperate Housewives’ Eva Longoria. I had no idea what she looked like or really who she was, but now I can say that I sat at the table next to her at the Martinez.

With my pants still drying, the only thing I was worried about was exiting the hotel and having the hundreds of people behind the barricade staring at my wet pants, but by the time we left, I had dry pants, an encounter with Julianne Moore, and 24 extra euros in my wallet. Thank god the drink did not leave a stain on my dress because I would be wearing the same thing to the How to Talk to Girls at Parties after party only a few hours later. Onto the party.