Britney Watch!

Paging Dr. Drea, come in Dr. Drea...
When I signed up to assist Contributing Editor Vanessa Grigoriadis for an upcoming cover story, I had no idea what was in store for me. For nearly two months I served as an on-call ambulance chaser for none other than the one and only Britney Spears. Oh baby, baby. Only difference was that I followed a trail of Starbucks lattes, packs of blinding paparazzi flashbulbs and a Mercedes Benz. One exception being the infamous ambulance chase that we all know too well by now – the day ‘ole Brit tried to kill herself and the unpleasant train wreck photos of her ride to the hospital that followed. With Britney on suicide watch, my Gmail account was like my personal beeper. I was always on duty. On my days off I brought my laptop to coffeehouses and tearooms - just in case. If my cell phone went dead, I panicked. I was a living, breathing Britney machine.
For a while, all talked about with my peers, was Britney Spears. It was as if nothing else in the world mattered at the time.
It all started with simple Mouseketeer research. My first assignment was to dig deep, well beyond the usual random sensationalistic articles about the pop princess that we have all come to loathe. I was informed that the purpose was to get to the bottom of Brit’s recent and tragic insanity. For hours upon hours I was buried deep in the library archives at RS, trying to fish out just what Vanessa needed – and I delivered. Soon I had all the dirt. From Brit’s secret Palm Springs getaways with her paparazzi boyfriend, to one failed manager after another, to the truth about when she really lost her virginity – I knew everything about the infamous pop tart before it would hit the mainstream press.
Around the office, I would often be asked, “How’s Vanessa?” I’d reply by saying that maybe I hadn’t heard from her that day. “That’s a good thing”, was always the response. I suppose I underestimated the constant demand of working with a real reporter. Not that I minded – after all, I am an aspiring journalist. Gotta’ pay those dues, right? Besides, its not like she pulled a Britney on me and had me charter a jet and bring her favorite coffee. It’s a good thing we don’t have Coffee Bean on the East Coast…
At times my research would be interrupted by an abrupt email or a call on my cell. One time in particular, I was designated to tmz.com – a popular celebrity gossip site of which prior to this point had never served as interest to me, whatsoever.
"They have a live feed outside Britney's lawyer's office,” Vanessa informed me. “They're waiting for her to show up for a deposition. I have to go downtown to get some court papers for her case, but I’m going to try to hit this up on my way back.” Vanessa was in L.A. at the time and hot on Brit’s trail. She desperately feared of missing Brit’s grand entrance - this was vital for the story. For over an hour I sat and waited, staring at my computer screen and barely blinking - for a Britney that never showed. She reportedly “called out sick”. I guess getting her kids back wasn’t exactly a top priority.
On a slow Spears day, tasks were a bit more mundane. I would check in with my editor to hit me baby, one more time with some additional work. One afternoon, I recall tearing anything and everything Britney out of every US Weekly issue since last year, to put together in a portfolio for Vanessa. FYI – Britney appears in US weekly, on a weekly basis and let me tell you something - that’s a whole lotta’ crotch-shots. I managed to surface from the cavernous library once or twice for field trips. One mission in particular was to head to the 42nd Street New York Public Library and locate a copy of “Not That Innocent” – another crucial component to the piece. My task was to find the book and Xerox it in its entirety, and then Fed-Ex it to Vanessa ASAP. As I attempted to convince the reference desk that I swore the book wasn’t for me (forgive me, I’m just not a fan) I was disappointed to discover that this bestseller wasn’t available anywhere. Bummer. Not a total loss however - I scoped out the Jack Keroac exhibit on my way out.
Most of the time I delivered, but sometimes I could not. When I was asked to go to a newsstand and grab the latest issue of Blender (Brit was on the cover) I failed to do so because it had yet to be published. I wasn’t discouraged, however, as I could imagine that perhaps Blender would have been difficult to find near Vanessa’s Hawaiian home - the island being so desolately remote and all…
In the end, whether or not I was just another intern, in some small way I felt like I contributed to this big story. I was a Slave 4 a big-time editor, and if you were to ask me if I’d do it again – I think my answer would probably be something like, “Gimme, Gimme,” because once you take part in the hunt, it only leaves you hungry for more.