Jeanne Wolf spends the night on the red carpet at the Academy Awards with a handsome guy. That would be Oscar, who’s celebrating his 83rd birthday. A look back at some memorable moments plus Wolfgang Puck showing you what the hungry stars chow down on after the show.

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On my way to New York City from LAX on the busiest travel day, etc…whew! No stress. No strain. For once, media overexposure may have dissipated a problem.

No lines. More personnel. Less tension. Speedy full-body scans proceeded with no remarks or even jokes. The only jostling was the “take off your shoes/take out your computer” process.

Speculation was that there were more news cameras than passengers in the terminal. If things went this easily at airports around the country all of the time, George Clooney wouldn’t have gotten a single laugh in “Up in the Air.”

Crisis averted. The people in charge got the message. Planes were boarded. Holiday greetings were passed around generously. The protest worked as a warning that we are all watching the watchers.

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I went to meet the Queen of England. In the interest of full journalistic disclosure, I should mention that I was joined by a thousand or so other guests. We climbed aboard the new, spectacular Cunard ocean liner, “Queen Elizabeth,” for what the Brits call a naming ceremony. Her Majesty was to bestow her royal moniker on the big boat before it embarked on its maiden voyage from Southampton.

I bumped into a knight of the British Empire on the way, Sir Ben Kingsley, who was there to represent the Princess Trust Charity. I told Sir Ben that I kept trying to remember the nursery rhyme about “going to London to meet the Queen.” He may be dignified, but Sir Ben laughed as he recalled the silly rhyme, “Pussycat, pussycat where have you been?” More about that later.

I’ve been to a lot of premieres with Hollywood “royalty,” but none came close to the level of anticipation everyone was feeling. Forget those red carpet fashionistas. Hats were worn, decorations, including some impressive medals, were displayed, dresses were very proper and conservative. The shoes were the fashion give away. Jimmy Choo and his even trendier contemporaries’ stilettos clicked on the gangway, a contrast of the old and new.

Then, there were the tweeters who couldn’t be missed with their thumbs flying over PDA keyboards. “We’re trying to see who can tweet first and fastest,” my enthusiastic seat mate exclaimed.

As the music swelled, we saw the Queen peer out from the windows of the top deck evoking gasps, grins, and even a few tears. Even seeing her from a distance, the packed crowd was holding their collective breath.

The Queen was wearing a royal blue hat and dress. She also held her trademark purse which reminded me of something actress Helen Mirren (herself a Dame of the British Empire) once told me, “When I did my research before I played her in ‘The Queen,’ I found out there was a time when she dropped her handbag while walking with an archbishop. He described going down on his hands and knees picking all her bits and pieces, a lipstick, a compact, a pen and glasses.” What woman can’t relate to that list? Mirren added, “There were no credit cards or keys. Oh, and no money.” Now that’s something only a Queen can get away with.

I was brought back to the moment as Her Majesty pushed a button to sound the ship’s horn. Oops. It was not exactly the triumphant regal blast everyone was expecting.

As we heard a funny beep, someone behind me whispered, “I think she pushed the room service bell, not the proper ship’s bell.” Hey, you can have a sense of humor, even at a royal ceremony.

While the orchestra played the emotional and ceremonial music that was actually played at Elizabeth’s coronation, high hatted guards marched in precision. First came the christening. However the bottle of red wine that splintered on the ship’s stern didn’t come from the Queen’s Hand. It was held by an elaborate gadget. Can’t have grape stains splashing on that blue hat.

Next, trumpets sounded. It was time for the official naming preceded by a big poof of confetti and fireworks. I was sitting so close that I saw some confetti ribbons wind around the feet of the royal guard marchers. I can attest, true to form, not one of them flinched. Not even to look down at the trail of wrinkled and waving blue paper stuck to their shoes.

Was I moved? Was I impressed? I confess, I was the Yank sitting in the front row of the bleachers. No hat, but very traditional teardrops running down my face.

I said to Sir Ben that sometimes Americans try to pretend that we are not intoxicated with royalty. The Oscar winning actor smiled and quietly shared his view, “You are among the people of the world who care the most.”

Oh, I almost forgot….. the rest of the rhyme:

“Pussycat, pussycat where have you been?
I’ve been down to London to visit the Queen.”

Imagine Kingsley chiming in here:

“Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there?
I frightened a little mouse, under her chair.”

Sir Ben bid me adieu with two declarations:

“I can prove how significant the Queen is. Hollywood king, Martin Scorsese gave me the day off from filming on his movie in London so I could be here in Southampton.

“And, Jeanne, you mustn’t forget to mention how splendid the weather was. It’s important to keep up our reputation!”

I dragged my coat along for no reason. Who knew it would be sunny… and warm and memorable and grand.

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