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900 Seconds

George Beckerman

    Some people are referred to as being larger than life. Blandon is smaller than life. When he walks into a room, no one notices. As a small boy, when Blandon’s mother would come into the bedroom to say goodnight, she’d bend over his brother Pete’s bed, plant a loving kiss on his forehead and say, “You are so adorable”. On her way out, she would lean over Blandon’s bed with “Your brother is so adorable”.
    Perpetual omission continued throughout his childhood. Teachers taking attendance would forget to call his name. Raising his hand in class was futile. When teams were picked for sports, he wasn’t chosen last. He wasn’t chosen at all. Kids that weren’t even there were selected before Blandon. The family went to the movies to see “Home Alone” and didn’t realize they left Blandon home. Even out at dinner after the film ended.
    Later in life, same deal. Blandon’s probably the only person in America to have never received an unsolicited telephone call. Every morning, he stops at Starbucks, gives the barista his order, then waits for his name to be called. It never is. When he went in to ask for a raise, his boss didn’t know he worked there. Almost done. At the beach, people would throw their blankets over Blandon, not realizing that he’s lying in the sand. His least favorite holiday? Obviously, Passover. OK, done.
    One morning, a knock at the front door. Blandon hadn’t had a visitor since Shakey’s Pizza did home delivery. Standing before him was Andy Warhol. Never mind that he’s been dead for twenty-five years. Andy announces that Blandon is going to have his fifteen minutes of fame. Before our boy could get “Huh?” out of his mouth, Warhol follows with... “Starting....NOW!” and disappears.
    Immediately, a flower delivery person appears carrying an exquisite arrangement of orchids. No, it isn’t a mistake. The mayor wanted to thank Blandon for blessing the city with his presence. A uniformed chauffeur is next, ready to transport the newest VIP in style to a five star hotel. For the first time, Blandon actually felt his pulse, which had been undetectable his entire life.
    In the hotel lobby, Blandon is inundated with photo-snappers and autograph hounds, whom he happily obliges. Pretty exciting for a guy whose cellphone face recognition always comes up “Who?” An adoring crowd surges into the elevator with Blandon just to be in his orbit.
    Champagne and a gift basket wait for Blandon in his magnificent hotel suite where he hears a commotion outside the window. He sticks his head out and looks down at a throng of hundreds gathered at street level looking up, cheering wildly. Taken by surprise, Blandon ducks inside to catch his breath. If his schoolmates could see him now.
    A reporter and camera crew arrive to do a feature. They hustle inside while pushing back a mob wanting to catch a glimpse of their new favorite celebrity. As the interview starts, a female fan appears on the window ledge flashing her breasts. Security arrives, pulls her inside and leads her away as she screams “I love you, Blandon! I want to have your child!” This shakes him to his core.
    The reporter fires questions at Blandon staccato-style. Who are you? Who are you dating? What kind of car do you drive? What is your favorite color? Overwhelmed, Blandon manages to blurt out “Orange” before asking to be excused to use the bathroom. In mid-pee, the shower curtain is yanked open revealing paparazzi who snap away causing Blandon to quickly abort, spraying his pants in the process.
    Rushing out of the bathroom, Blandon notices a side window and gingerly makes his way down the fire escape. As he passes each floor, he picks up fans who climbed out of their rooms and chase him down the scape. A wild mob is waiting for him at street level below while the fire stairs crowd closes in on him from above. Blandon has no choice but to jump down into the star-thirsty horde and hope for the best.
    Clothes in shreds, Blandon escapes and runs for his life, throng in pursuit. He passes a newsstand whose daily trumps the headline: “CANCELLED! Blandon chooses orange and offends all other color!” Thousands of tweet beeps signal the same message. He keeps running. After a few blocks, Blandon looks back and realizes that he’s no longer being chased. Passersby don’t even cast an eye in his direction. If his 15 minutes of fame are really over, Blandon is beyond relieved.
    As he happily makes his way home, Blandon notices an old wheelchair-bound woman speeding toward. She’s being pursued by a gang of paparazzi, backed up by a crowd of hundreds. As she passes, the woman shrieks to no one in particular: “DAMN YOU, WARHOL!!”

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