When Lady Gaga finally enters an event held Tuesday in midtown Manhattan, she is running at least an hour behind schedule as dinner is well underway.
Donning a black lace-up headpiece that makes her face look like a lollipop, the singer doesn’t say a word to a line of print and television reporters awaiting her 9:03 p.m. arrival. (Thinking about it, she is wrapped so tightly that any mouth movement would lead to saliva buildup.) She strikes artsy slo-mo poses that include clawing, and struts inside poker-faced to all questions.
This is weird, I recall thinking, but when dealing with Lady Gaga, who knows.
“She’s not talking to anyone,” a handler says. “They tried to tackle her outside.”
I grab coconut and strawberry-infused Godiva candies, and step outside where a scene of mayhem is taking place. A photographer lays on the sidewalk, his face ashen, with medical help surrounding him. A photographer I recognize tells me, “A.J. is not breathing.”
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UPDATE: According to a fellow photographer who is on the scene when the accident happens, the gang is packing up and ready to leave when the man falls and hits his head on the concrete. The photographer says he had prior medical issues, and Lady Gaga is already inside.
“He was a very kind person who was always very helpful with other photographers,” the shutterbug, who asks to remain nameless, tells me. “It’s sad it happened on a cold, concrete pavement.”
UPDATE TWO: According to another photographer, the man suffers a massive heart attack, pending autopsy, after Lady Gaga arrives.
What a horrifying way to go. May the dear photographer rest in peace.