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The Boyfriends & Girlfriends Issue

It Happened

In March, Michael Jackson held an exclusive “fan appreciation day” in Tokyo where 300 lucky people got to line up and be led one by one into a teeny room where they would have the chance to spend 30 seconds of face time with “The Gloved One”—all for...

The $3,500 photo. Totally worth it.

In March, Michael Jackson held an exclusive “fan appreciation day” in Tokyo where 300 lucky people got to line up and be led one by one into a teeny room where they would have the chance to spend 30 seconds of face time with “The Gloved One”—all for the low, low price of $3,500. Hi, that’s $117 per second. Artist Meredith Danluck was one of these fortunate few. She made an art video about her experience and will be exhibiting it at Renwick Gallery in New York through the end of June. She’s still slightly traumatized.

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The crowd stared up at the booth for hours hoping to catch a glimpse of MJ. When he came to the window to wave for a nanosecond, the screams were deafening.

I got about two seconds of video footage of me and him before they turned my camera off.

Finally they started calling numbers to meet the man. You weren’t allowed to bring a video camera, but I had a digital camera that actually shoots pretty high-quality video. I thought, “Well, I have no idea what’s going to happen when I walk through that door, so I’m just gonna start filming now and go for as long as I can.” I held my camera to my chest in a vise grip. The door opened. It was so intimidating. There were like 15 bodyguards and handlers inside. A woman shuffled me into the tiny, brightly lit room and immediately stripped me of my coat, my purse and my camera—like, she really wrestled the camera away from me. I tried to explain that I just wanted to take pictures of him myself (but secretly film him), but they didn’t understand. They were like, “Oh no, together, together!” and literally shoved me over to where he was waiting. He was just standing in the corner like a little lost dog confined in a cage at the pound. When they pushed me I tripped over the white tarp paper and tore it a little. You can see it in the picture. I stumbled and kind of fell into Michael Jackson. The bodyguards gasped but Michael just caught me and was like, “Oh hi, are you OK?” We shook hands and hugged and he felt very frail and skeletal. I’m a size zero and I felt fat next to him. And I’ll tell you, being so close to that face, that nose, that skin… I was mesmerized. He said, “I really like your shirt,” and he touched my t-shirt. That felt strange. Then he said that he liked my vampire teeth necklace and asked me if he could have it! I thought I had misheard him, so I just mumbled something like, “Oh! You know, actually, it’s really sentimental. Sorry!” Right then the guy holding my camera said “OK, 1, 2, 3,” and took a picture of us—just one picture—and then they shuffled me out and that was it. It was the fastest 30 seconds of my life. I felt like a piece of trash being blown in the wind. One of the rules was that we were allowed to ask Michael one question—like he was some kind of oracle. “Michael Jackson, who will I marry?” In all the chaos of it though, I didn’t even think to ask him anything. I barely even spoke to him. I barely even treated him like a human being, because everyone else in the room made him seem like such an object. I left immediately afterward. There were going to be performances of dancers doing “Thriller” following the meetings, but I had to get out of there. I felt crazy. Since I was the first person to leave, when I got outside the paparazzi swarmed me, shouting, “Did you meet Michael Jackson? Did you shake his hand?” They trailed me for an entire block and I got so freaked out, I jumped in a cab and spent $70 getting back to the hotel. We had gotten gift bags containing a bottle of champagne and an autographed photo of Michael, and the next day the cleaning lady in my hotel either threw mine away or stole it. Still, I definitely feel like I got my money’s worth. He was actually really nice. I feel bad for him. I feel bad that there’s this human life who has such a foreign, caged experience of the world.

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There were shitty dance performances of “Thriller” while we waited.

This is Carlo, the first of many Michael Jackson impersonators who hit on me.

The faceless swarms of terrifying paparazzi.