Field Report: That One Time I Met Farrah Abraham [PHOTOS]
My home state of Wisconsin is not a pinnacle of excitement. Occasionally something interesting will happen, but it usually involves a serial killer. So when I heard that Farrah Abraham was going to be visiting the state capital as part of her cross-country meet-and-greet tour, I knew I had to go. Not just for me, but for journalistic integrity — and the journalism diploma that was hanging on my wall until I gave up and used it as a napkin two weeks ago.
So my friend and I set off to Madison, home of Governor Scott Walker and his lazy eye, to meet Farrah Abraham.
We arrived early on in the night and I immediately began conducting business, sitting by the stage next to a rather sweaty fellow whom I presume was stuck in a loveless marriage and ordering a severely overpriced Scotch (seriously, guys). Eventually one of the girls sauntered over and casually asked, “Are you here for Farrah or for Alexis?”
On this particular night, porn star Alexis Texas was making an appearance as well. In my mind I was picturing a turf war between the two, and possibly a wrestling match. And so I proceeded with questioning a naked woman in an extremely professional fashion, but with a somewhat Woody Allen-esque tone.
“Alexis is great. She tears it up. I met her already on Thursday,” she said. “She’s so sweet. I’m worried about Farrah, though.”
“Have you met Farrah yet?” I asked.
“No. She’s not here yet. But Alexis hates her,” she replied.
The club was full of the usual staples: preening, backwards-capped clientele and flashing lights, like a cave of misogynists who just awoke from a long hibernation. As I made the rounds I asked a number of the girls what their experiences were with Farrah, and the diversity of responses was interesting.
“She’s a raging f—ing c—t,” one girl carrying a tray of suspicious looking purple shots told me. “I heard she told her manager she didn’t want to have to talk to anyone. Why do a meet and greet and not talk to anyone?”
So early hearsay was negative. I took a swig of whiskey and scanned the room for a second opinion, suddenly wishing I was wearing a Humphrey Bogart fedora.
“The girls here all say she’s nice, but I heard the people at Milwaukee thought she was a bitch,” said another. (The night prior Farrah had appeared in Milwaukee at a sister club.)
Then the tides changed. Two others told me that Farrah was a good person who acts the way she does because she’s so acclimated to being judged by others. “She is who she is, and she owns it,” one said. “And I think it’s great.” This was bolstered by yet another girl, who reported no negative experiences.
A few minutes later, in the back by the bar, I heard some of the girls talking amongst themselves. “Everyone’s all baby mama drama because of Farrah,” she said. “They’re all ‘If I had a baby daddy…’ Never again, Farrah.’” (I still don’t know what to make of this.)
After Alexis performed, it was announced that Farrah had made her way over to the VIP section, while Alexis would be on the other side of the club. Lines were being formed and sides needed to be chosen. Farrah’s line was bigger, possibly because people wanted to get that out of the way before heading to the other line. I filed in and began waiting as people took pictures and she signed autographs.
She was sitting at the end of the roped off section in a nice dress, and people had the option of having a photo snapped by a professional with a gigantic SLR camera for a fee, or slumming it with their iPhones for free. I am nothing if not thrifty.
As she snapped photos she seemed genuinely chipper and engaging, joking around with people, laughing often and taking time to make sure everyone thought their photo turned out right before moving on.
Groups of friends gathered around and complimented her. Awkward looking men hovered their hands slightly above her shoulder. There were a surprising amount of women, many of whom seemed eager to meet her – perhaps they felt a kind of kindred spiritedness (but in a slightly less demure way than Anne of Green Gables always did).
Knowing that I would have about 30 seconds to make an impact, my reporter instincts kicked in Bear Grylls’ style and I quickly decided on a question. As I approached, Farrah was waiting and smiling.
“Hey,” she said. “How are you?”
“Too soon to tell,” I said.
She nodded and said “Well, come on over,” as we grouped together for a photo.
Afterwards she asked my name so she could sign an autograph, and as she did, I took my shot. “Is it difficult,” I asked, “Being around so much alcohol and not being able to drink any?”
She put the cap back on her permanent marker, looked up smiling and said, “Oh, no. I’ve drank more than enough” – a surprisingly good answer.
She then thanked me for coming, I thanked her for her time and made my way back into the club.
Overall, I’m hard pressed to say anything negative about the experience. Despite the somewhat mixed anecdotes, all of the empirical evidence gave me the impression that Farrah was genuinely kind and appreciative of people wanting to meet her (regardless of their reasoning).
And really, now that I think of it, this whole ordeal would have made a great episode of MTV’s ‘True Life.’ Or HBO’s ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm.’ Whichever.