Sunday, May 21, 2006

I swear, this isn't a crazy dream
So I'm driving home on Saturday from Alexandria--had to drop off an outfit we borrowed from Bella boutique for the models at the event. I'm heading up the GW, just past the Key Bridge, when I'm signaled to stop by a cop. I'm the second car in what will shortly be a huge line of stopped traffic. Apparently there's a bad accident on the other side of the road and they're landing a helicopter in front of us.

So I'm waiting, trying to figure out my new Blackberry when I look up, and there's Donald Trump. Standing, oh, about 10' from my car. He's with his son (who, last I heard, still lives here), his son's model/wife, and a random blonde in a DVF artichoke shirtdress that I've been lusting after. Just checking out what's going on.

The weirdest thing was how blonde he was. Not just "had a little run in with the Sun in" blonde, but Upper East Side Blonde. It just wasn't right.

It was just a weird experience--the copter, Donald's chauffeur trying to look useful in front of his boss by attempting to glean any information at all out of the cop, the bad dye job (unless he was Nina Griscom--then it would be top-notch) the awkward crowd, ("Do you approach him? But there's a bad accident ahead. But it's The Donald"--that sentiment seemed to be the overall consensus, based on the sly cell-phone shots and casual comments being dropped around him). A strange afternoon, indeed.

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