I’m sure you all know the story of how I met Gaga by now. She was absolutely wonderful and warm to my parents and all my friends. One thing we did discuss deeply before the show was my own personal pain problems, which, ironically enough, she mentioned she was having herself, although there was no mention of her hip involved. I was genuinely concerned for her, but she brushed it off because of wanting so deeply to give everything to her fans each night on the road. She showed no signs of it during or after the show; and as you all know, the plug eventually had to be pulled after the Montreal, Quebec Born This Way Ball. Lane, Gaga’s day-to-day manager, who we met backstage and who also follows me on Twitter, direct messaged me one night with the words, “Hey Emma, what’s your phone number?” Thinking nothing of it, I sent it off. And, as fate would have it, the rest was history. It was Gaga on the other line.
When I answered, she simply said, “I’m on crutches and I’m occasionally in a wheelchair right now, because I ****ed my hip up after a show, but I’m okay, I promise. You’re making me brave! Make sure to tell all your friends that I love them.”
It was a bit of a surreal moment knowing that I’d just gotten off the phone with her; even more so knowing that she personally thanked me, out of all people. As exciting as that was, I went about my business as usual. Then, on the 16th, I received a text message from the same number, telling me that she had named her wheelchair after me. She asked me how I was doing, and then proceeded to ask for my twitter handle. I’m pretty sure you know where this is going.