Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Neo Finds Own Beard Nauseating
It appeared to be a typical August afternoon in sunny Los Angeles; the sky was almost blue, smog drifted in a dust haze across the horizon and the buzzing thump of trunk mounted speakers pounded out a cacophony of competing bass rhythms. Despite these signs of normalcy, the star of My Own Private Idaho was feeling anything but typical. Racing along Century Boulevard in the passenger seat of friend and co-star Alex Winter's Benz SLR, Keanu Reeves couldn't shake a feeling of unease. He was working his way through a pack of Tums, tossing the empty foil wrappers into the ash tray and peering nervously out the window at passing traffic, trying to puzzle things out. "I really feel like crap," the 42 year old actor admitted as he tossed yet another pastel colored disc into his mouth. He crunched wearily on the medicinal tablet and slumped tiredly down in the plush bucket seat, trying to get comfortable. He laced his fingers together over his stomach, which was rumbling discontentedly. "Try taking off your sports jacket," suggested Winter, the acclaimed director and Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure co-star. He looked at Reeves for a moment, then switched off the air conditioning and rolled down the window, suggesting "some fresh air?" Reeves nodded thankfully and sucked at the wind, which began to buffet his face in refreshing blasts as the car cruised through traffic at high speed. The healing powers of California air didn't help for long, however. "Uh-oh," Reeves barely managed before clamping a hand over his mouth. "What?" Winter asked and cautioned a look at his companion as he piloted the car serenely through a yellow light. The bulging eyes and puffed out cheeks of Reeves were enough for Winter to send the SLR to a screeching halt at the curb in a cloud of burning rubber and hot brake shoes. The passenger door was immediately flung open and Reeves leaned out against it, vomiting in a violent gush onto the curb. Winter's peered out his side window, embarrassed for his friend. After a moment, Reeves managed to sit up, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. "Oh god," he mumbled, then pulled the door shut. "You okay?" Winter asked. He was genuinely concerned as Reeves did not vomit often during the day. "Yeah, lets go," Reeves directed with a wave of his hand. Despite his face being flushed and coated with perspiration, he said, surprisingly, "I feel a little better." The SLR pulled smoothly back into traffic and disappeared into the throng, just another expensive car in an ocean of similarly valuable vehicles. The two never again discussed the incident, preferring to let it pass out of their memories in favor of better times and places.