Revisting Rihanna #777

One year ago today, 150 other journalists and I embarked on a crazy trip with Rihanna. Dubbed the #777 tour, the plan was to accompany her while she played seven shows in seven countries in seven days as a way to promote her upcoming seventh album, “Unapologetic.” 

It was a crazy ride to say the least. Rihanna got a lot of press and the most of it was bad because she showed up late for show after show, including keeping people in Berlin waiting for four hours. We were supposed to have press conferences with her on the plane in each city —she was in the front of the plane with her entourage—and we were back in coach and we only saw her twice, when we took off from Los Angeles on our way to Mexico City the first day and then on our last flight on the way  from London to New York City. 

In between, we mainly waited for Rihanna...and waited... and waited. It became very clear that she was constitutionally incapable of getting anywhere on time. It wasn’t just that she was late for the concerts. She was late for a meeting with school children. She was late for a Christmas Tree lighting ceremony. But, mainly, she was late for the plane. She, somehow, turned a flight from Berlin to London into a red-eye. 

So take a trip that was going to be exhausting under the best conditions: I’d like to try it with a country artist since they tend to be very courteous about time and very chatty with the press for the most part. But this became a shit show. By the fifth night - on that flight from Berlin to London, we’d all hit our limit. Plus, we were plied with free alcohol on every flight. That's a dangerous combo.  We thought that RiRi might grace us with her presence and float back from first class and when she didn’t, we stood our on seats and started chanting for her. Then, one of the Australian journalists streaked around the plane (this guy, as you can imagine, was a real character. Last week, he won the Australian edition of “Big Brother.”) By the time we landed, we were already an internet sensation and a trending topic with hash tags like #freetherihanna150.

So today when the anniversary of the trip rolled around, several of us were Facebooking photos and emailing back and forth. The conditions were tough, but to the journalist/blogger/radio personality, all of my colleagues were great. I enjoyed them all immensely and I knew none of them before I got on the plane so they are all new friends. We all bonded together in our exhaustion and our frustration, but mainly in our humor in dealing with a ridiculous situation. We laughed a lot and other than the lack of sleep, that’s what I remember the most.  Most of them are based in New York and I miss them. I don’t want to be on that plane again no matter what, but I would go almost anywhere with this bunch of journalists anytime. 

As for Rihanna, for awhile there, especially after seeing the same show night after night, the last thing I wanted was to hear her music and I’m still not much of a fan, but there are certain songs that take me instantly back to that first show in Mexico City when I was just meeting my fellow travelers-come-hostages or to the show in London where she had to go on reasonably on time since it was being live telecast or the final show in New York City where we gathered round afterwards and breathed a sigh of relief that we were done, we were back in the U.S. and the Thanksgiving break was coming so we could get some sleep.

In honor of my fellow #777 Survivors and the trip, I’m giving to a charity that Rihanna has supported, the Bear Necessities Pediatric Cancer Foundation. 

Like so many organizations I’ve given to this year, Bear Necessities was started by a parent after she lost her child, in this case, 8-year old son, Barrett “Bear” Krupa,” to cancer. Bear Neccessities helps individual families who are struggling financially as their child receives treatment and also provides medical grants to researchers trying to find a cure for pediatric cancers. 

Nov. 14: Bare Necessities Pediatric Cancer Foundation

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A few weeks ago, I spoke to the journalism class at Malibu High School. I talked, in part, about how being a journalist is the best job in the world. It gets you into rooms you’d never be able to walk into ordinarily. It takes you to places in the world you’ve likely never get to see otherwise.  The fact that I have been able to work my entire adult life as a journalist is a blessing beyond compare.  It certainly hasn’t made me rich, at least not monetarily, but there has never been a moment when I have wanted to change professions and it is still a thrill to have a great interview, break a story, or put another deadline behind me. 

This past 24 hours only reinforced that for me.  Last night, I hosted a panel of top female songwriters at a Songwriters Hall of Fame event at the Grammy Museum’s Clive Davis Theater.  I got to share a stage with women who had written huge hits for Ricky Martin, Kenny Chesney, Beyonce, Rihanna, Avril Lavigne and many more and ask them about how they create songs that we’ve all come to love. After all these years of covering music, songwriters remain the Holy Grail to me. I am fascinated that someone can create something out of thin air and then that song becomes part of our lives. 

Speaking of touching all our lives, this morning I hosted the book release party for Ringo Starr’s “Photograph,” a limited edition, very high end book of his photographs through his entire life. It really serves, as he said, as his autobiography. In front of around 350 people, I got to interview legendary rock and roll photographer Henry Diltz about his work and what he thought of Ringo’s photography style,  then Dave Grohl from Nirvana/Foo Fighters and The Black Crowes’ Steve Gorman about how Ringo had influenced them as musicians and drummers, and then, Ringo himself. In fact, I can still smell his cologne on me from when he hugged me. He was very funny and gracious and told great stories. One of his photographs is of him and Paul McCartney that looks very staged because they were using a self-timer. It was taken in a hotel room during one of their trips to America. In the book he talks about how the Beatles, no matter how famous, continued to share hotel rooms. I asked him about that and he said that’s how you really get to know your bandmates. They always had two rooms and bunked with each other and they always rode in the same car/van together...quite a far cry to how members of huge bands now travel by sometimes not even riding on the same tour bus. He then added that the only rule was if you were in the car and you farted, you had to admit it. Now that’s a Beatles story I’d never heard before! 

Of course, not every 24 hours is like this... in fact, I’ve never had a 24 hours like that before. But that’s another great thing about being a reporter. No two days are ever alike. And I can safely say that only about .000000000000001% of my days include a Beatle, but my point is that to love what you do is a gift and I know that. The same job that gives me immense amounts of pleasure most days is the same one that puts a roof over my head and food on my table. 

I knew I wanted to be a journalist from the time I was in fifth grade and that desire never wavered. Even though I didn’t major in journalism in college, I was lucky to have a great high school journalism teacher named Sara Houck who gave me great training (and whom I’ve been trying to find for a long time to thank her) and outlets to write for. 

Not everyone is as fortunate. The International Center for Journalists trains citizen journalists and media managers in more than 180 countries. In places where asking questions can get you killed, ICFJ works with reporters to give them best practices by starting journalism schools they can attend and giving them the tools of the trade. 

Oct. 23: International Center for Journalists

Why I started this blog

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