“Do you have a cigarette?” Shia LaBeouf asks me.
It’s close to one a.m. on a Tuesday, and LaBeouf is standing outside of Avenue, an industrial-looking, not-yet-open-to-the-public lounge in New York’s Chelsea neighborhood. While Shia and his friends are spilling out, my friends and I are waiting to go in. (It never happens.)
Less than 24 hours ago, the 23-year old Transformers star was on the other side of the country, presenting an award at the MTV Movie Awards in L.A. I watched, eagerly, blogging away, as the kid I’d later learn was an egomaniac presented the award for “Best Fight.” Too bad our confrontation didn’t happen earlier – it could have been a contender.
“I don’t smoke,” I finally tell Shia. “But nice job at the Awards last night. Can I take a photo of you for my blog?”
Shia stops dead in his tracks. Turns to me. Makes this uneasy, panick-y face like I just asked about his DUI. Or broken arm. Or multiple arrests. I genuinely thought he misheard me.
“Hi, my name’s Shia,” he says robotically. “You want to use me to promote your blog?”
It takes me a minute to realize this is not a question. But I answer anyway.
“I think you’d make a cool item,” I say.
“I run my own site with my own money,” I go on. “Competing with hundreds of well-known sites that have endorsement–“
“I’m a human being,” Shia says, cutting me off. (Because the self-starting, self-funded entrepreneur I just described isn’t?) At this point, his voice is much louder and a crowd has formed around us. “I’m fucking standing outside and you want to take a picture of me for your blog.”
Correct me if I’m wrong, folks, but is there anything wrong with asking an actor for a photo? Isn’t it part of the job description of being a celebrity to have fans, take pictures, and do press? If nothing else, be polite and not curse?? I mean, look what the Jonas Brothers did in an identical situation!!
Neither my friends – nor Shia’s – interject in our quarrel. They let us continue with our stupid argument that’s actually more about Shia’s ego and fear of bad press than anything else, until we finally reach the end of our ropes.
“Are you mad?” Shia asks, the tell-tale question of an egomaniac.
“I think I’m going to make it,” I say. We part ways.
Looking back, the entire thing happened for the best. You see, if Shia had let me take a photo of him that night, I probably wouldn’t have published this photographic gem I found online.
Happy smoking, LaDouche!
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