You know, in the beautiful city that is Los Angeles you can experience multiple things in one evening of existence. You get star struck, you get annoyed by different celebrities because they're obnoxious, or you could just go out and laugh at forty-year-olds in leather pants trying to look like Ozzy Osbourne.
But some nights, things beyond the ordinary celebrity sightings happen and change you forever...
So I head down to Spaceland on Monday night to see my friends Division Day play in the third week of their residency. After having a drink too many and laughing through the opening acts of the evening a friend runs up to me freaking out. It was at this point that the Moustache was informed that Ryan Gossling was in the building. Apathetic to the situation (I have to admit I probably couldn't point out Gossling in a crowd of people, but it's not because I don't care, Ryan), I headed for the bathroom to dispose of this extra drink that had just worked it's way through my system.
Now, if you haven't been in the Spaceland bathroom, let me just fill in the details. It's small and usually there are eight people in there waiting to use one of the urinals without the proper deterrent dividers to keep creepy onlookers at bay. It's the type of bathroom where you feel gross washing your hands because it's so unkempt. Well, the odd thing about this night was that there was no one in this bathroom. I was busy absorbing how wonderful it was to not deal with a ton of people doing a pee dance at the door throwing you into an uncomfortable mess of a human being that rushes the job and doesn't take the proper precautions when finishing (shaking it off, if you will) just to get out of this awkward bathroom situation. So with that said, I didn't notice who was talking to me while I was at the urinal.
The conversation began with a man standing behind me saying, "Woah! That's a weird spot for a drain." My brain tried to process this comment, but all I could come up with in my mind was, That was a weird thing to say.
Avoiding saying the thought in my head due to the moustache's supreme people skills, I continue looking down at my urinal minding my own business and say, "It sure is." Upon this the man walks up to the urinal (remember there's no divider) and begins doing his business.
"How are you tonight." Now, most men in bathrooms don't talk while they're at the stall. Most get in, get out and have conversations outside. I don't mind talking at the urinal, but most people seem to have a problem.
"I'm doing well. How are you?" This is about the time I look up to see the man standing next to me. Same height, so it's easy to carry a conversation. And who was this man, you ask? It's Kiefer Sutherland. Now, for those of you who don't know, Mr. Sutherland is a Silverlake area staple. A man of the people. A stand up dude that likes to chill out at an everyday bar and have a few too many drinks. Much like your mustachioed friend.
So I continue on with this odd conversation, talking about music, being skeptical of people that are actually from LA and actually getting some handy life advice. He's pleasant, we laugh and made our tiny, gross bathroom experience a little more enjoyable for each other.
Now things get strange. While I'm shaking it off, the door flies open. There's a bright flash, a giggle and the door closes. I look over at my new friend, who's totally unfazed by everything. I'm a bit frazzled because someone just took a picture of me taking a piss with Jack Bauer.
I wash my hands and leave the restroom feeling more awkward than I usually do. My privacy was invaded.
So, the moral of this story is, kids, if you're in Los Angeles and anywhere near a celebrity, it doesn't matter if you're in the bathroom, or just hanging out at the bar you're probably going to get your photo taken by some psychopath.
Also, if you can find the picture of me taking a leak with Jack Bauer please send it this way. The Moustache would greatly appreciate it.
-10lb Moustache
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