At 11 o’clock last night, the swarm of paparazzi was thick all the way down Ultra Supper Club’s black carpet as dozens of folks waited for one Paris Hilton. The rain was falling and the swarm of media hacks was ready with giant umbrellas to scooch under to protect their cameras. We were among them. This was not a moment to be missed; we just had to deal with the man pressed up against us, the bulge in his pants locked to our behind. But not this, nor the rain, nor the choking clouds of cologne was going to keep us from leaning in to get an utterance from the world’s most famous young blonde. Prior to her arrival, we overheard every line imaginable being spat at the bouncers, as desperate Paris look-alikes clamoured to see their idol. Suddenly, we had overwhelming sympathy for every doorman in town. After the jump, the arrival of Paris and why fame is so easy for her.
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