NEW FEATURE BY SHAM IBRAHIM
In 1999 when I was barely 18, I worked as a $60-a-night go-go dancer at a sleazy San Francisco nightclub. One night, a girl approached me and snapped a picture. She wrote down my number and mumbled something about Timothy Hutton. The next day, I was told I had been cast in a film and should report to “set” for my “call time” – 9:30 AM. “Camera ready.”
I wore hideous club kid cliché to the set of Just One Night: purple hair, green lipstick, blue eye shadow, platform shoes, vinyl pants, and a shirt that resembled a Rubik’s cube. I knew I wasn’t the star of the film when I saw 200 or so other “club kids” standing around. The next indication was the voucher I filled out which classified me as “non-union” and established my pay rate at $45 for eight hours.
I would’ve left right then and there, but I spotted Udo Kier emerging from his trailer. He looked disheveled and irritated. I was convinced that if I talked to him he would put me in touch with Madonna and we’d all be best friends. When I approached him, however, he was totally disgusted. I shoved my phone number in his pocket and forced him to take a picture with me but he insisted on having the makeup girl in the photo. The rumor on the set was he had a nasty early morning drinking habit and was always in a foul mood.
My stripper friend Jenny had also been hired as an extra. She had already given the producer of the movie a blowjob in his trailer and had been doing coke with him all morning. She introduced me to him and he snagged me by the arm and seated me at a table with Timothy Hutton, Maria Grazia Cucinotta, and Seymour Cassel. The next thing I knew, the cameras were rolling. As quickly as it happened, someone yelled cut and my big scene was over. (Watch clip)
Later that night, everyone from the set went out for drinks. All the slutty female extras were at the bar. Seated next to his bodyguard Buzz was Timothy Hutton. Between making out with one of the sluts (his hand was up her skirt) and doing shots, Timothy turned to me and asked if the sweat pants he was wearing made him look gay. I assured him that they most certainly did. Buzz and Timothy got a huge kick out of this, and they made me prank call Seymour Cassel who was apparently extremely homophobic and had been making fun of my outfit all day long. I left him a message saying how hot I thought he was. Later, Timothy asked me if I had ever eaten pussy. When I told him I did once (which was a total lie) he demanded to know what it tasted like. “It’s like pasta without the sauce” I said, remembering a comment I heard in junior high. Somehow, he believed me.
When the night was over and all the men had paired up with sluts, I took a cab home with the lingering aftertaste of Hollywood magic fresh in my mouth. And the following week, I packed two boxes full of all my possessions, bought a $36 Greyhound bus ticket and moved to the land of shattered dreams and broken hopes.
– Sham Ibrahim