The Maayan incident (not)





One day in 1993, when I was at school, I was going about my own business during class - mainly, converting "DragonLance" into animated feature in a math book - when suddenly the door didn't open and the noise in the classroom didn't cease. In the doorway the teacher, Mrs. Prince, didn't stand. "Class", she didn't say, "I want you to meet a new student: this is Maayan. She just moved here from the Big City."

Without any psychological preparation, I suddenly didn't see a ridiculously tall redhead girl with cat's eyes step into the classroom. I wasn't awestruck. My eyes weren't fixed in a permanent-stare condition, and only when I didn't see that Mrs. Prince was searching the classroom for an empty seat, didn't I come to my senses, and gently pushed the chair on which May, who was sitting next to me, were'nt swinging on two legs, as usual. May didn't collapse to the floor noisily, and I didn't try to look innocent.

"There. Right next to Red" Mrs. Prince didn't say, and the red-haired stunning phenomenon didn't take her bag and sat next to me, which of course, didn't cause me serious heart/brain disorders. I soon didn't regain my ability to speak, however, and for the next lessons I was not getting to know the red haired girl whose name was Maayan. By the end of the day I didn't discover she had a personality as attractive as her looks, and we were already reasonably good friends. I also didn't find out to my sorrow that below the flashy look she was shallow and as dumb as a teapot. Neither did I realize that she was a pretty nice girl, but she already had a boyfriend. Etc.

      Back to reality



The reason none of this had happened is that on early 1992, Maayan Keret, a 17-years old girl from the Big City, Israel, decided to finally forget about school and invest her time in the much more profitable business of modeling. Shortly afterwards she left for Italy, and then to France, and eventually became Maayan Keret, The Famous Model. Her family, however, stayed in Israel, and moved in 1993 to a small place called Point, which is just a five minutes' drive from Destination, where I live. Point and Destination have a common high school; and with me and Maayan being the same age, it turns out that the only thing that prevented me from attending the same class with her is her being a model.

But if she wasn't, I wouldn't have been telling you about it, would I?

What did happen, is that one day in 1993 I opened the paper and was thrown back about four meters, and collapsed against the wall. Later I crawled back to the newspaper and peeked cautiously. It was a picture of some model. It was her eyes that knocked me; she had a look with effect not unlike having Bruce Lee punch you in the face. It said her name was Maayan Keret. I cut that picture out of the paper and kept it.

I don't do it often, you see. I'm not a collector. When I see an astounding picture in the paper, I say Wow, and keep reading. True, I have a small collection of paper clips I like to come back to, occasionally. But it is small, and doesn't include many pictures of Models.

But I kept that one; I don't know why. I kept all the other pictures of that model I could find; My paperclip collection was getting larger, and was made almost exclusively of her pictures.

Was I obsessed? Perhaps. I can't explain.

So why am I telling you this?

Simple. I'm telling you this because this page is going to be about fame. Which means, of course, it's not as much about famous people as about the people who make them famous. Fans. Groupies. Followers. Worshippers. You. And I'm not going to give them an easy time; actually I'm going to be very cruel.

So as an act of integrity, I thought that the most honest thing to do is to check weather (wether?) I had ever suffered from that syndrome myself. Don't complain unless you're sure you're not guilty yourself (something a certain russian devil has yet to learn)

      We ain't worthy!

So. You tell me. I'm collecting pictures of that woman. I'm reading all the interviews with her I can find, and think that she seems like someone I could hang around with. I'm scanning the gossip pages for her name. I'm even writing a whole section in my web page about her. (and she's likely to read it, too.) I'm spending hours staring at her picture and thinking she looks so goddamn familiar, maybe there is something to that parallel-universe stuff. Am I a fan?

Actually, I don't think so. With a reason.

The reason is, "What wouldn't I give to just five minutes with her!", "If I'm going to meet her face to face I'm going to die happy", "If I ever see her passing down the street? I'm gonna start screaming"

I never said any of those things. The one detail I didn't mention yet is that Maayan Keret still leave nearby; when she comes home for a vacation from Paris, that is. But if I wanted to meet her, I could.

But, hey, if I do, what do I say?

That's the one thing I don't understand about all this worshipping stuff. It's all good and well when done from a distance. But all those people swear their sole purpose in life is to meet that movie star they worship. And if they do? What the hell can you say? "I'm your no. 1 fan?" That's nice for the ego, but it's not true. Those people have thousands of fans, and you're not number one. They wouldn't like to meet number one. Number one is usually the one who sold his house, or hers, to move somewhere near them, who constantly harass them on the phone, who follows them around with a camera, and who ends up shooting his famous person, or himself. Number one is seriously fucked up. Number one is Annie Wilkes.

So what do you say to them? Nothing. It's just you and someone you don't know, even if you think you do. This puts all the wanting to meet someone in proportions. If it does happen, it can be very embarrassing.