They carried crowns, sunglasses, and more viking helmets than a Norse longboat. Crowding outside Boston’s Newbury Comics last Wednesday, the fans waiting to meet Flavor Flav did more than embody dedication. Compulsively glancing at the clocks which dangled from so many of their necks, they comprised the latest episode in a bewildering apotheosis.
One bystander, talking loudly on his cell phone, struggled to weave through the raucous throng.
“These people are all here for Flavor Flav,” he said, before pausing. “Flavor Flav? He’s, like, one of the worst rappers ever.”
“That’s not the point!” screeched a woman dressed in a red robe and gold chains.
For fans of the man born William Drayton, talent never was the point. The hundreds waiting in the cold had bought Flav’s new album, “Hollywood,” but that was because Newbury Comics made purchasing the CD a prerequisite for a spot in line. Their $13 wasn’t for the music, but rather for an encounter with the protagonist of “Flavor of Love”—VH1’s hit send-up of “The Bachelor”—in which a contestant who defecated on the floor tellingly survived a round of elimination.
So they waited. And waited. In total, FM spent over three hours in a line that snaked up Newbury Street and into the aisles of the store itself.
When Flav’s limousine finally arrived, there was more than the typical excitement surrounding a celebrity sighting in the air. There floated a tense uncertainty, as if those present wondered whether such an absurd character could exist in real life.
One trademark shout later, though—a gravelly “FLAVOR FLAAAAAAAAAV”—and all such fears were put to rest.
For the televised William Drayton is not a caricature at all. The line to meet Flav was so long because he spent a solid five minutes with every single fan. He philosophized on everything from compassion (“Everyone deserves a second chance,” he said, referring to the woman who pooped on the floor) to spirituality (“God loves you,” he told FM, “and I love you”). He repeated his trademark catchphrases (“Woooooooow” and “Yeeeeeah booooooy”) with remarkable devotion.
When asked if he had any advice for Harvard students struggling to find love, Flav became suddenly serious.
“Don’t look in the wrong place,” he said, gold teeth glinting. “Don’t look in the wrong place.”
Amen.
–Pablo S. Torre
