Gonzo by Corey Seymour & Johnny Depp & Jann S. Wenner

Author:Corey Seymour & Johnny Depp & Jann S. Wenner [SEYMOUR, COREY]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: BIO025000
ISBN: 9780316026383
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2007-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

LAILA NABULSI was a production assistant on Saturday Night Live in 1976.

John Belushi was my best friend. One night just before the show I went into John’s dressing room—it was just a little room with a couch—and someone was lying there. I could see the shorts and the long legs and the sneakers. It could have been the pot dealer. You never knew who was going to be around.

John says, “Laila Nabulsi, Hunter Thompson. Hunter Thompson, Laila Nabulsi.” John and Danny [Aykroyd] had gone on a road trip commissioned by Rolling Stone and had stopped by Hunter’s along the way, and when they came back, John was talking about him a lot.

My fate was sealed in that second. Here was this tall, good-looking—well, actually I couldn’t even tell if he was good-looking. I couldn’t really look at him; there was all this energy going on.

After the show we all ended up at a party. Every once in a while I’d feel this presence and look up, and Hunter would be staring at me with his cigarette holder in his mouth. At some point, John came running over to me and did this typical song and dance about “I have to go somewhere. But I’ll be back. Could you take Hunter back to my apartment? I’ll give you the limo—just make sure he gets in the house, okay? I’ll be there.” I could only imagine what he was up to, but he was doing the whole eyebrows-up thing and using his best charm. I looked at him and joked, “Okay, but I’m not gonna fuck him.”

What I didn’t know at the time was that John had already gone to Hunter and said, “I need to go somewhere. I’ll give you the car. Go back to my apartment, and I’ll meet you there in an hour. Is that okay? What do you need? Do you need anything?” And Hunter pointed at me and said, “Her.”

He was staying at the Gramercy Park Hotel, and I ended up staying there with him for about two weeks. I hadn’t quite got the hang of his humor, so it was tense—because I was scared sometimes. We were sitting in the bedroom talking, and every now and again he would go into the living room, and I’d hear these weird screams—lamenting, hideous, agony-filled screams. Then he’d come back into the bedroom and pick up right where we’d left off and act like nothing happened. I thought, “He’s insane, and I have to get out of here.” I would have to get out of the bedroom and over to the door, but I thought he would do something to me if I tried to get out. And then he went out to the living room and did it again, screaming, “Oh God! . . . Oh God!!”

The third time he went out and screamed, I flipped into anger as a defense—out of fear, I think—and I said, “Stop that! Why are you doing that?” Hunter started laughing, and he said, “I can’t find my lighter.

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