Depp

Sometimes in journalism you face a lot of disappointments. Sometimes the job gets in the way of following your wants and wishes. But hey, it's the job. It pays the fucking bills.

The office was struck with Johnny Depp fever since he was filming the John Dillinger movie "Public Enemies" right across the street from our office in an old police station. Sure, the movie trucks came in, and the security guards "didn't know anything" as they chewed on French fries from the local McDonald's, but there was no sign of the actor.

So the pressure was on.

Would he show up? Will he show up? Get the camera ready for some action since this is community news.

So we never got the shot.

But apparently, the man DID show up, him and Christian Bale, who will forever be known in my mind as Patrick Bateman of "American Psycho" fame.

We started at 9 a.m. Shit, even the editor rolled in on time. The office was full of surprising expectations. Hell, maybe he WILL be there.

But the day dragged on as they usually do and no Depp was in sight. The only "depp's" I thought that were in attendance were the the dip shits who thought they would see Johnny Depp.

I was the dip shit.

As is customary at Nadig Newspapers, we cover the meetings of the Lincolnwood Board of Trustees. The board talks about riveting stuff like changing yard setbacks and approving grant money.

But at this point I was in a panic. It was bad enough that I drove all around the City's police stations covering area crime, but I was missing out on some Depp action.

Anyway, the day was over and it was time to go home.

So instead of staying and waiting for Johnny Depp, I went home to get something to eat and take a shit.

Bad judgement.

I began my journey to Lincolnwood for the meeting and I stopped by the "set" to see if "Johnny was there?" He WAS, but some security lady told me that he wasn't. I knew this because there were some fans staked out on the lawns. They knew he was there, but I didn't.

Cue the meeting.

But on the way back home, I parked my car and walked up to the set and asked one of the truck drivers who caters to the stars if "the star of the show was going to show up."

"Oh man, you missed him buddy. By about two hours," he said.

"Two fucking hours?" I said.

"Yeah both of them came in. Him and Christian Bale. You know what [Depp] does, he shoots the scene, goes to his trailer, changes, and then jumps into a car and he is gone," he said.

That's when the dagger was placed roughly into my heart.

"Fuck," I said.

I said some other things, but then I decided to drown my sorrows in vodka.

"Fucking Johnny Depp," I said.

I called some friends so that they could guide me through the ordeal, but in the end, yeah, I was a disgruntled fan of his work. But it was my fault. I should have been out there at 5 p.m. dragging a fold out chair and a beer can "waiting for Johnny Depp."

Sometimes work is more important that Johnny Depp.

Cue the vodka.

Ciao,

Gonzo.