The Day Paris Hilton Went To Rehab

This is a dream I had; I've never actually been to rehab.

I was rather surprised when she agreed to visit me but, if truth be known, she's been my BFF for, well, for ever and isn't that what friends do? So Paris flew to Denver, rented a Maserati, and drove one and a half hours into the Rocky Mountains for family day.


Her visit was quite a surprise to those in the facility. They had no idea I even knew her. But Paris walked in like any other family member and, first thing, asked to use the bathroom. As we walked by a table, there was a plate of burned-up incense. Paris looked, not sure what to make of it. She took a pinch and put it to her nose.

"Paris! You don't snort that. It's ashes."

She looked at me resignedly. "I know, Michael. I was just smelling it."

We moved on from the table and I showed Paris to the loo. When she returned (with her hands washed), we went into the sun room and chatted for a while. The other students were overwhelmed and alarmed that Paris Hilton was sitting in the sun room of their rehab center. Some came up to her and she was very gracious. Others just stared from afar. Finally, one of the center's counselors came over.

"Hi Ms. Hilton. I've been chosen by the staff to talk to you about drugs."

"Excuse me?" Paris asked.

"Well, we need to search your belongings for contraband."

"Do you search every guest who comes to visit?"

"No. But we don't know the history of every guest that comes to visit like we do yours."

Paris handed over her bag.

"Paris, I'm so sorry." I said.

"It's not you, Michael. I'm just so famous. People read all this stuff about me and assume its true. There's nothing in there. I came to visit my best bud, not get a Rocky Mountain High...Colorado." She laughed at her allusion. As long as I've known her, Paris has always loved John Denver. Finally, her bag was returned.

"Thank you, Ms. Hilton. It had to be done."

"Whatever..." Paris retorted in that way only she can. At that point, my sister walked in the room. Lisa and Paris had never met but she had no pretensions about Paris.

"Hi Michael. Hi Paris."

Paris took to the normality of her greeting right away. "I love your fur, Lisa."

"Oh, thanks, Pah. But it's not real. I wouldn't walk around in real fur."

"You wouldn't?"

"Of course not. We should take a walk around these beautiful mountains and I'll show you why that would never enter my mind."

And that we did. Paris had never seen animals before and was entranced by the elk, rabbits, and chipmunks. We returned from our walk and decided to play a game of Scrabble. Paris spelled words like HOT and HO (\ˈhō\ def.: a call to attract attention, used especially to attract attention to something specified as in Westward ho!). Lisa, a working mother, used words like BASEBALL and PRACTICE. I put down ANTIDISESTABLISHMENTARIANISM. Paris thought it was incredible that I could spell that word with seven letters. Lisa challenged and I lost a turn. But, I won the game anyway. (I'm a writer. Ho!) The ladies were nonplussed; Paris wasn't sure what nonplussed meant so we looked it up together and laughed.



Ultimately, it was time for family and guests to leave. We all said goodbye and Lisa and Paris walked out together. Lisa had nothing to learn that day but I think Paris might have taken away a few things. At the least, she now knows that HO has two meanings.

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