When I worked in digital media at Microsoft, I was the international marketing manager and as such had to travel a lot. I was lucky enough to go to the Cannes Film Festival several times. The first time I was there, i was ultra-prepared but with competition for hotels what it was, I ended up staying in what felt like youth hostel. My second time there was magical – I flew to Nice via London on British Airways, Gwen Stefani was a row or two in front of me and I ended up taking a helicopter from Nice to one of the central quays on the Cannes waterfront.
Gotta tell, you its hard not to feel like a rockstar when you walk across the tarmac to an executive (wheels-up) helicopter and then zoom across the azure waters to touch down in one of the most glamorous ports in Europe.
This trip I stayed l’Hotel Martinez , one of the go-to hotels for a lot of the celebrities in town. I had forgotten my laptop on the flight from London so I had plenty of time to kill and I went for a walk and when I got back to the hotel, the front entrance had been besieged by fans. I started to laboriously push my way through the crowds, muttering under my breath as I went. Suddenly I noticed whispers and glances and the crowd began to part. Turns out that with a biker jacket and a pair of Prada aviators on, I looked just like Moby.
The long arms of security reached back into the crowd and pulled me along to the front steps. So tight were the throngs of people that I kind of popped out past the barrier and with a little forward momentum behind me, I ran smack into Fergie, who was hard at work getting herself ready to walk out casually to her car. So real was clumsy collision that this guy (who I learned later was Wil.i.am) jumped in to muscle me back. I was so concerned at being discovered (“what?! we have a Nova Scotian staying at the hotel?!!!) that I played it cool, mumbled an apology and walked away.
As I was departing the scene, I heard one of the security guards say to Wil “Dood, zat was Mobee. Cheel out.”