The Extreme New York Childhood of Alex Goldberg – New York Magazine
What are you doing here?” asked a woman in a bathing suit. “Where are your parents?”
“Taking a nap at the Ritz. I just wanted to check this place out.” She didn’t believe him. “C’mon. I know you. I did a casting with you in New York.” Alex shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did too. Your name is Josh something. You’re 11. What’s the name of the movie you were in?”
“I’m not in any movie. And I’m 12.”
Alex borrowed a video camera from the woman’s friend and disappeared into the crowd to interview people. He found his first victim in the shallow end. She was a blonde in a blue bikini, clumsily moving to the music.
“Are you a professional dancer?” Alex asked sarcastically.
She looked curiously at the four-foot-nine-inch-tall boy. “Are you making a movie for school or something?” she asked. “Is this … educational?”
Alex was grinning. Her friends started getting ideas. “Show him some ass, girl,” said one. Shake it a little. And she did. She turned around. Jiggle jiggle jiggle.
Next up: Jamie Foxx. The actor was near the bar, giving a woman a massage, and saw the crowd now gathered around Alex. Foxx offered to buy him a drink. What do you want, little boy? “A piña colada,” Alex said. The crowd laughed, and he got one, virgin.
Alex’s adventure ended hours later, at Nobu, where the pool crowd had migrated to feast on junket sushi. He had been chatting up Venus and Serena Williams at a nearby table, and mugging for cameras with a cigar hanging from his lips while eating a bowl of ice cream. Then the faces at his table went blank. Alex looked up and saw what they saw. His mother.
Busted.
[continues]