| A Full House at Sundance |
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| Written by Laura Lane | |
| Thursday, March 01 2007 | |
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I am sitting at a poker table drinking a Budweiser Select (a drink of choice for women wanting to appear laid-back and low maintenance) in a three-story exquisite wooden house on a cliff overlooking Park City and the snow-covered mountains. I just left Matt Leinart’s ESPN Gameday party thinking the day couldn’t get any better. I was wrong. I had made it to the final table in the Doyle Brunson Celebrity Charity Poker Tournament and was sitting at a table that included celebrity poker regular Danny Masterson, World Series of Poker Champion, Jamie Gold, President of the Screen Actors Guild, Alan Rosenberg and a few other industry heads who knew the game well. What the hell was I doing here? I had survived and was now part of the elite seven, whittled down from 40 other competitors including Lance Bass, Reichen Lehmkuhl, Nick Cannon, Richard Roeper, World Series runner-up, Paul Wasicka, son of the poker legend Doyle Brunson, Todd Brunson, Stephen Stills and many others. I am not a celebrity. Okay, I am nowhere close to a celebrity. With sitcom stars and poker champions surrounding me, I felt a tinge of guilt knowing that after all, I was only an intern at E! Entertainment. The blinds had just been raised to $1,500 and with an Ace, King in my hand, I was in a good position to stay in the game. It was just another unbelievable moment in my Sundance 2007 adventures.  Friday My trip began Friday night, the second night of Sundance and one of the busiest nights on the town. Every dive-bar and mediocre club on Main Street had been transformed into the glitz and glamorous clubs of New York and Los Angeles and had been taken over by uptight LA bouncers and cut-throat publicists. One thing was clear: Sundance wasn’t about the films. It was about the parties. As Nelly would say on stage a few days later, “Sundance is winter’s Spring Break!” For this week, the signs read Tao, Marquee and Motorola Lounge. Instead of beer-bellied regulars, the bars were filled with Hollywood’s hottest crop of young actors including Sienna Miller, Josh Hartnett, Justin Timberlake and Jared Leto. Of course, we weren’t on the list. But had that ever stopped me before? I start off the night armed with two of my favorite people – my partner in crime, Amanda Champagne, and my best bud, Sports Illustrated writer, Arash Markazi. We hit the ESPN lounge, a trendy three-story bar with free food and booze. Downstairs I’m introduced to the Jamie Gold, who recently won $12 million in the 2006 World Series of Poker. I decide to sit down at the poker table where he was giving a lesson – a lesson that would come incredibly handy a few nights later. “Good move,” he says when I raise on a pair of Sixes. But he quickly puts me in my place on the next hand when I call a $300 raise with a Queen, Ten in my hand. “Stupid move. What were you thinking?” After the game we decide to head out with Gold and his crew to Tao. The place is packed but a path is immediately cleared for us with Gold leading the way. Lance Bass, P. Diddy, Danny Masterson and Jamie Kennedy are among the crowd as I kick off my first night at Sundance.  Saturday Word got out quick that Tao is the place to be and once again I’m without a wristband. I’m flying solo tonight so I text some of my friends at E! Entertainment inside, hoping they can use their VIP status to get me in, but I’m out of luck. Just as I’m about to give up (sober in 11 degree weather sucks), a pink-haired Perez Hilton, the infamous celebrity blogger, walks through the velvet ropes and out the exit near me. With nothing to lose I yell, “Perez! Can I have your wristband?” To my surprise, he comes over. “It won’t come off I’ll have to rip it,” he says yanking at the red plastic band. I tie the band around my wrist and run inside. After an hour of dancing and no luck finding my friends at E!, I decide to meet up with my crew down the street to the bar Sidecar, which is a hosting a party for X-Dance, a festival for extreme sports films. And where there’s extreme sports, there’s extreme sports athletes. I convince the bouncer to let me sneak past the line and then follow a pro-boarder into the VIP, which disappointingly has a lack of hotties, whom had taken off for the Winter X-Games. But I’m not worried. I still have three more nights to go. Sunday We start off back at the ESPN Lounge where Matt Leinart is hosting an ESPN Gameday viewing party and the list is tighter than a Vanity Fair Oscar party. We manage to get in and meet up with Gold and his crew and mingle among Roger Clemens, Jamie Kennedy, Christian Slater, Dante Stallworth and Ahman Green. Downstairs I find two of my friends, the youngest E! News reporters, (not to mention incredibly good-looking) Jason Kennedy and Ben Lyons who are setting up for interviews with Sienna Miller and Josh Hartnett. My heart melts with envy. Although I’d love to catch a glimpse of two of my fav’ celebs, I head upstairs and grab one of the hottest seats in the house next to Leinart and his entourage in front of one of the many plasma screen TVs as we watch the Bears crush former Trojan Reggie Bush and the Saints. Just as the game is ending Gold invites us to join him at the Doyle Brunson Celebrity Charity Poker Tournament. His driver drops us off in front as we check our coats and become immediately pampered by the maids, chefs and bar tenders. As the celebs arrive, I am told that two spots in the tourney have opened up. After contemplating the $250 buy-in, I quickly grab a spot. “Do you know what you’re doing?” my mom asks when I call to tell her. “Don’t worry,” I promise, secretly hoping I’m not the first one out. I had occasionally watched poker on ESPN and played a few times with some friends but I was certainly no pro – unlike my competition. A couple hours later, I look around to see just two tables left. I was in the top 12. “I never know what to do with a Queen, Six,” I tell Masterson, who’s sitting next me with an over-grown goatee. “Throw it away!” he quickly says. “Don’t even think about it. Get rid of it.” Gold joins the table and smiles like a proud professor when he sees I’m still in the game. “If you have the hand, go all-in Laura,” he tells me. A few hands later I land a pair of Kings. “I’m all in,” I say. No one calls me and I collect the blinds. “I should have held off,” I tell Gold. “No way,” he argues shaking his head. “If three other people call, they can easily beat you on the flop. Take the money and go. Don’t wait.”  Thirty minutes later I’m at the final table. Former players, camera crews and viewers surround the table as my heart races. After making a stupid call with a King, Ten, I’m nearly out of the game. On the next hand I’m dealt a Three, Five. One player goes all in and another guy calls. With just a few chips left, I have no choice but to go all in. We turn over the cards. The two players reveal they both have Ace, King. I nearly duck with shame when I show my measly Three, Five. Then the flop. Before I can even look at the cards, the crowd goes nuts and everyone stand-up to cheer! I just got a straight on the flop. I’m still in the game. I hold my own a little longer and end up placing fifth in the competition. Some call it luck; I call it my skills. After losing to Rosenberg, despite the odds favoring his hand 7-1, Gold invites us to some fine-dining, where I get a lesson in wine from the poker star and a promise that he’ll take my friends and I on my first trip to Vegas. It must have been a long night for Gold, because when Dante Stallworth sends over a round of tequila shots from a few tables down, I look over to see Gold asleep at the table. I snap a few pics for proof. After dinner, we head over to another bar up the street where we top off the evening with late-night dancing. Monday I head to the slopes for some snowboarding but opt against hittin’ up the park. I had two more nights left and a broken leg would so kill the luck streak I was on. When we return to the pad, my friends and I relax in the Jacuzzi outside – overlooking Park City and in 17 degree weather. Livin’ the life. My partner in crime needed a break so I cab it down to Main Street solo hoping to get in to the exclusive William Morris Agency party, which some of my friends and E! associates are at. For the first time all week I can’t get in! The good thing about Sundance is that there is always a better party just down the street so I head to Tao to meet some other friends just in time to see Nelly perform as Lance Bass, Akon, Tara Ried and Mathew Lillard get the place Hot in Herre. Tuesday After sleeping in till 2pm, I head over to the USC Film School party, which besides the free wine and amazing crab cakes, is pretty uneventful. I head over with the two mates to the X-Dance Awards Show. Markazi is the only one on the list but once again we manage to coerce our way inside. The highlight of the show is seeing motocross champ and Metal Mulisha leader, Brian Deegan, who has won 10 medals in the X-Games. The awards show overall isn’t exactly as organized as say, The Golden Globes, but then again, the winners and presenters are in wife-beaters, beanies and skate shoes and the award is a plastic skateboard. Bonus: the crowd is filled with hotties. My partner in crime and I make the rounds until we spot the cutest guys in the room and decide to make our move. Turns out their looks were all they had going for them. (Recommendation for timid guys: read The Game, by Neil Strauss.) So instead of sticking around for the after-party we decide to head up the street to try to get in to the Miramax Party. Of course, we aren’t on the list and this time we don’t have a Perez Hilton or Jamie Gold to help us out. “This is the Miramax Party, right? ... We’re not on the list? Weird. Yeah, um, we were invited by uh, Adam.” The women at the front clearly sees through our B.S. but after claiming to have forgotten our cards and giving a pleading smile, we convince her we are “important” and make our way inside to mingle with the party-goers. The bash is sponsored by Absolute Vodka and has possibly one of the best buffets we have seen all week. Delish! Wednesday I can’t believe it’s my last day, but my trip isn’t over yet. I join my friends for the premier of transplant-recipient turned Olympic snowboarder, Chris Klug’s new auto-biographical movie. It’s no Sundance film, but at least I can say I saw a film while I was here. After all, it was a film festival I was supposed to cover … right? After the festivity I pack my bags and get ready to head back to LA, although I feel like I never really left. “I’m guessing you were here for the film festival,” one of the flight attendances says to me as I step on the plane carrying all of the prizes and gifts that wouldn’t fit in my suitcase. “You must be some lucky girl. Looks like you had a fun week.” If she only knew. Comments
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