AL Pops his Porn Event Cherry with Savanna Samson

A West Side Porn Story
by Al Blanco

Let’s make one thing clear right now: I had a great time attending the Vivid party last night.  Then again when free booze is involved I’ll turn a damn phone booth into Studio 54, minus the hairy waiter guys in daisy dukes.

I get myself a nice little buzz before heading down to the club, which is mandatory for me like a soldier going to war with a gun.  I’ve got my pad for notes and my little fun saver disposable camera, which I know will look like a grown man eating a fuckin salad at a BBQ at George Bush’s ranch – completely out of place. 

I find the place, on the far west side of Manhattan, and proceed to check in at the door.  In line are a number of photographers.  "Damn," I think, "these guys’ cameras look fuckin nice… look at my bullshit, I’m like the little white midget cock at an all black fuckin gangbang."  The man asks me for my name and I tell him, "AL fuckin Blanco, bitch!"  He apologizes for not recognizing me, as he should because in New York there’s Derek Jeter and AL Blanco – that’s it.  Seriously though, Jeter is fading and I’m going to overtake him, but that’s neither here nor there.

The event is scheduled to begin at 8, and it’s 8:05 and the place is pretty fuckin dead.  No problem I think, I’ll just have a drink and chat it up with the staff.  My bartender, I’ll call him E, is a pretty chill dude and looks like he smashes all sorts of fine pieces.  Working at a place like this in this trendy area, he is not short of opportunity.  After a few, I decide I should go outside to see if I can catch the guests of honor arriving. 

Sure enough in no time I see Savanna and Sunny and looking very nice at that.  Between the two of them, Sunny won the fashion war, dressed in a cool and sleek purple dress, which is sexy and slutty yet with an undeniable hint of refinery, even class.  Game on I think.

Back upstairs I try to blend in with the rest of the photographers who have all gathered to take pictures of the ladies, however I am failing like John McCain trying to raise his hands over his head.  I get some good shots and think, "I deserve another drink."  Nikki Jayne and Hanna Hilton have yet to arrive, and actually never end up showing due to what I’m told was a plane delay.  After the picture fuss dies down, I chop it up with a couple of the photographers.  Because I love irony, and I’m a retard, I ask if I can take a picture of the photographers.  Come on, to me that’s funny shit, when do photographers get their picture taken, by a writer acting like a photographer no less.  I used italics to make the irony easier to understand.  Anyway, they look at me like I had two dicks and I felt like stupid, but they oblige.

Mingling through the crowd, which never came close to being to capacity, I meet various individuals associated with the event and other professionals in the adult industry.  Everyone is really nice, and I’m having a good time sucking up the free booze.  I meet Kim with Vivid, and she asks if I’d like a moment to interview Savanna.  I was not actually planning on it and I’m also pretty fuckin drunk at this point, but I figure it’s not an opportunity to pass up. 

Before I get to the details of the interview, I must confess there were several moments where I needed to get my shit together, and I could tell Savanna definitely noticed.  This was confirmed later by someone else who told me she thought I was "unprepared".  I felt bad at first, but shit, I’m not gonna feel bad about a little perceived unpreparedness when two of the main attractions aren’t even there because of a fuckin plane delay.  Booyah, prepare your fuckin shit better, get an earlier flight.

Between writing and music, music is my bigger passion, so I wanted that to show in the interview.  I ask her about the CD and learn there are ten tracks, three of which are covers ("Hot Child In The City", "Kiss You All Over" and "I Want You To Want Me).  I learn she has always wanted to sing and surprisingly sighted Opera amongst her musical influences.  She tells me she sees music as an exit strategy to porn, which she will stop after her 12 movie in 2 year contract is up.  I ask her if she has any plans to do shows or tour and she said she’ll see what happens, though I get the impression she is a bit apprehensive at the idea, though she might have just been apprehensive of me by that point.  I found her to be an affable individual, and I respect that she loves what she does, and that’s why she does it, not to make money but out of passion.  Later I wished I had asked her about the wine she put out.  I read in the Daily News it was rated quite high.

A couple of times during the interview we were interupted by people needing to speak with her, so I hung out with Savanna’s hulking bodyguard Barry.  He’s very stereotypical looking, diesel, mad tatoos – some shit I normally make fun of, however he seems like a good guy, and also someone who could collapse my fuckin chest with a punch.  I learn he used to be Raquel Darrien’s bodyguard and I flashbacked to me being 15 watching VHS of her and rubbing out those huge teenage nuts.  The interview concludes, and I go back to drinkin and hanging out.

People from the event cleared out very early in my opinion, most are gone when it finished at 10 and the club opened to the public, and I couldn’t see a soul from it by midnight.  I kinda thought that was weak, this is New fuckin York, but what are ya gonna do? Maybe there was some other shit I didn’t get invited to, who knows.  I chilled out for a little bit, but was pretty fuckin drunk and had a bit of a way to get home in the Bronx, so I bounced.  My drunk ass falls asleep on the train, misses my stop and has to go back downtown.

 If you are or know the lady in the yellow dress, tell her to holla at her boy.  I had more wood than a fuckin log cabin in this pic…

Next stop, The Exxotica Expo!