Another one of my missions here was to locate a guy named Bruce who is Budweiser's international marketing chief. Anheuser-Busch does business with the magazine and Bruce had arranged to get me and a friend onto the list at Club Bud, a somewhat amusing nightclub that Budweiser sets up in some warehouse and invites Olympic athletes and people that the company does business with to drink free beer and party the night away.
For this mission I was joined by Kevin Chang, a former photographer from the Press-Telegram who as luck would have it now lives in Beijing. It was a relief to have someone I know here who I could have a conversation with and not simply have to nod and smile.
Kevin and I grabbed dinner at a ridiculous Italian restaurant where on the menu the owner is purported to be seen with famous people. The give-away: Somehow I don't think Sylvester Stallone showed up there in his clothes from Rambo. With blood on his face. And if he did, someone should have said something.
Anyway, we found ourselves over to this club and immediately started asking for Bruce. I have no idea what Bruce looks like, but I know he was supposed to put us on the magic list to get in. When our names weren't on there however, all we had to do was drop Bruce's name. As one guy at the gate said: That's the name to know.
Apparently. But Bruce was nowhere to be found inside. Over the course of nearly four hours, I asked and asked of people with earpieces who looked important. Each time I had just missed him. As the evening went on, more and more athletes started pouring in, many wearing their medals. One Belgian guy brought his gold medal and then appeared annoyed that so many people wanted their photo taken with him. Why in the world would you wear your gold medal to a place like that and not want attention? Some Chinese woman has a lovely picture of her smiling and a Belgian Olympic champion looking the other way talking on a cell phone. Should be a keeper.
Alas, as it neared 1 a.m., I had given up on the mythical Bruce. On our way out the door though, I saw the first person we met when we entered who said Bruce was the guy to know. On a lark, I asked one last time if he had seen him. Turned out he was standing right next to me. We spoke for a few minutes. Mission accomplished.
For this mission I was joined by Kevin Chang, a former photographer from the Press-Telegram who as luck would have it now lives in Beijing. It was a relief to have someone I know here who I could have a conversation with and not simply have to nod and smile.
Kevin and I grabbed dinner at a ridiculous Italian restaurant where on the menu the owner is purported to be seen with famous people. The give-away: Somehow I don't think Sylvester Stallone showed up there in his clothes from Rambo. With blood on his face. And if he did, someone should have said something.
Anyway, we found ourselves over to this club and immediately started asking for Bruce. I have no idea what Bruce looks like, but I know he was supposed to put us on the magic list to get in. When our names weren't on there however, all we had to do was drop Bruce's name. As one guy at the gate said: That's the name to know.
Apparently. But Bruce was nowhere to be found inside. Over the course of nearly four hours, I asked and asked of people with earpieces who looked important. Each time I had just missed him. As the evening went on, more and more athletes started pouring in, many wearing their medals. One Belgian guy brought his gold medal and then appeared annoyed that so many people wanted their photo taken with him. Why in the world would you wear your gold medal to a place like that and not want attention? Some Chinese woman has a lovely picture of her smiling and a Belgian Olympic champion looking the other way talking on a cell phone. Should be a keeper.
Alas, as it neared 1 a.m., I had given up on the mythical Bruce. On our way out the door though, I saw the first person we met when we entered who said Bruce was the guy to know. On a lark, I asked one last time if he had seen him. Turned out he was standing right next to me. We spoke for a few minutes. Mission accomplished.
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