Tinseltown Taste of Fame Could Bring Out Your Inner Jerk

I went to the Roxbury in Los Angeles one night and got treated like I was some two-bit columnist from Orange County. I got in the front door but that was about it. The night happened to coincide with rock star Billy Idol’s birthday party at the club, but since I wasn’t on either the short or long list, I never got to meet or greet The Great Man. I did, however, exchange pleasantries with a salesman from the Valley.

Late in the evening, I caught a glimpse of Idol in a cordoned-off VIP area, sitting like a sneering pharaoh in the midst of the adoring masses. People pointed at him, whispered his name, told him they loved him and brought him drinks. What a festive birthday he seemed to be having!

Ah, the celebrity life.

We mortals stand outside the ropes, gawk at the stars and wonder what it would be like to be them. What would we give to find out?

Answer: $44.50 for adults, $34.50 for children.

Understanding just how badly we want to be famous, Tinseltown Studios opens its doors tonight in Anaheim. It’s a dinner theater not far from the Pond that offers you--that’s right, little old you--a chance to be fawned over as if you really were somebody.

At Tinseltown, each night is an awards program, like the Oscars. As you and other diners arrive, Tinseltown’s regular cast of performers greets you as if you’re a movie star or some other big shot arriving for the show. It’ll be your grand entrance, your moment in the spotlight.

Once inside, the cast may continue to beg you for a moment of your time or tell you you’re the greatest. You’ll be blinded by floodlights and may even get a chance to perform as part of the program. They’ll lavish you with show-biz talk and make you think you’ve got a three-picture deal instead of being a guy who falls asleep in his underwear in front of the TV every night at 9.

In short, you’ll feel like a star, baby.

Tinseltown execs are selling the evening as good, clean fun and an escape from reality. Just think of Medieval Times in Buena Park, they say, where the nightly theme is a Middle Ages joust.

Ha. What Tinseltown is selling is every bit as dangerous as the Medellin cartel’s product. Like cocaine, fame is a drug.

Trust me, Tinseltown will be no Medieval Times. Nobody gets hooked on jousting. We know we’re not living in the 13th century and, besides, few of us are expert horsemen who own 8-foot lances.

An experience that promises fame, however, is much more insidious.

We Americans crave fame. We see athletes and movie stars getting the red carpet treatment and long for it. We see fame and think money and power.

The brains behind Tinseltown haven’t stopped to think what adulation does to otherwise normal people. Example: some time after my night at the Roxbury, the press reported that Billy Idol had pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge of punching a woman he’d met in another nightclub.

Mr. Idol was probably a regular guy until he became famous.

How long before we read this story from Tinseltown:

A Brea lawn and garden supply salesman was in custody after roughing up five Tinseltown employees and demolishing a bathroom at the dinner club. The outburst capped an evening of boorish behavior from the man, identified as 64-year-old John Q. Smith, that began when cast members insisted on taking his picture while he ate.

Smith, described by distraught family members as “normally the sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet,” had gotten addicted to the adulation bestowed on him at Tinseltown and he started acting “like a celebrity,” according to his wife, Helen, who said she’s filing for divorce from her husband of 42 years.

Smith’s behavior had grown increasingly problematic in recent weeks. On various occasions, he had punched a doorman, thrown a plate of calamari (and sauce) into a waiter’s face and made unwelcome advances on a 19-year-old cast member.

“Some people just can’t handle fame,” an unidentified Tinseltown official sighed. “Regrettably, Mr. Smith doesn’t seem to realize that this is all just a fleeting thing, that fame is an illusion. He was perfectly happy selling lawn supplies, and now this. How sad.”

Oh, so I’m crazy, huh? I’m imagining all this?

A Tinseltown spokesman says $1.7 million in business already has been booked. People crave fame. It’s a mind-altering narcotic.

While wishing Tinseltown well, let me suggest to frequent guests:

If in the future you find yourself with an uncontrollable urge to punch a photographer, please, get some therapy.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by writing to him at the Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com