Six or seven blocks away, the "world famous" Hollywood Palladium is dressed up like an old wino in a cheap dragon lady outfit. There are red lanterns hanging from the once-deluxe outside lobby area and the ballroom features jolly Buddha statues, performers hanging from the ceiling made up to look like Chinese acrobats, decks of cards, and other props from the movie's Red Dragon casino set. To mirror the high-budget sequel's East-meets-West theme, Mandarin-collared lackeys (who had to sign contracts before putting on the $400 blouses) serve food that ranges from cornbread to chop suey. I stick to coffee and brownies.

Chris Tucker shows up and his friends congratulate him on a fun movie. LL Cool J is one of the first in line, wearing a red, studded bandanna and ubiquitous shades. Jackie Chan and his crew arrive later. He stops for pictures and vanishes within half an hour. "He doesn't do these honky parties," Daniel tells me, and I can't tell if he's kidding.

In the packed and dark room, it's not long before I lose track of my friends. I do spot a lot of celebrities, though. I see few Kings of Comedy in the house, ex-Detroit-Bad-Boy-turned-Laker John Salley towers over everyone else, and Steven Seagal is a really, really large man. I overhear a very thin China Chow being introduced to someone else and I think I saw Jennifer Love Hewitt with her hair dyed dark. Also, the Olson twins look a lot older than I thought they were. Everyone bobs their heads to a mostly hip-hop DJ except for one little kid who dances like Michael Jackson and attracts a circle of lookliloos. Interestingly, the floor clears when the DJ plays "Kung Fu Fighting" by Carl Douglas.

Since I don't know what to say to celebrities, scenesters, or industry insiders, I talk to the workers. I ask William, a security guy, how the Rush Hour 2 after-party compares to other movie openings and he says that they're all good. But isn't he afraid of fights with all these marital artists from different schools in the house? In all seriousness, he says no. We talk for a while about the Ultimate Fighting Challenge, Muay Thai kickboxing, and kung fu movies and I decide that William is pretty cool even though he thinks that Steven Seagal respects the Asian culture and is keeping it real. I tell him that Seagal reminds me of Tim Robbins' character in High Fidelity, but everyone's entitled to his or her wrong opinion.

Across the ballroom, red curtains delineate a section with red mattresses, red pillows, and young Asian females wearing red robes. Free Oriental massages! For purely journalistic reasons, I feel compelled to check this out. After a brief wait in line, Jane introduces herself and asks me if I want my back or hands massaged. I choose my hands because it seems more hygienic. Daniel pops up from out of nowhere and asks, "You give hand jobs?" Even in the red light, I can tell she's blushing. And she should, too, because (1) it's a demeaning assignment and (2) she can't massage worth crap. It's like she's patting a dog. I ask if she had any sort of masseur background or if she had received any training from the people who set up the gig. Nope. She has never even given a boyfriend a massage. Oh well. After a few awkward moments, I tell her I'm done and ask if I'm supposed to give a tip. She says no, and offers to rub my back. Um, okay. She removes my sweatshirt and goes to work on my shoulders, but her fingers are too weak. I'm sure Jane looks good doing trade shows and import car challenges, but she's deficient in the massage business. I get up and wish her well, hoping that she wouldn't get any sweaty, hairy dude wearing tank tops tonight. She gives me a worried smile, and says, "Me, too."

The only job worse than acting like an Oriental massage girl must be dressing up as a rickshaw guy. I ask the dude in pajamas if it is okay to take a picture in the cart and he says, fine. Afterwards, I talk to him for a while and offer something like, "At least you don't have to pull anyone around," and suggest that he pull the coolie hat down over his face so that no one recognizes him. He says that his day job is as a casting agent, and that he's only doing it because it pays 500 bucks for one night's work. I believe that, but I don't believe that he gave me his real name.

Next, I spot Maggie Q in the middle of the party. She's just hanging out, so I tell her that I liked her part in the movie. Her scene only lasts for a split second, so she laughs. She says that she did it as a reluctant favor to director Brett Rattner, who's a friend of hers, but I bet she liked it. Finding out that Maggie is going to be in Los Angeles for a few days, I invite her to the Giant Robot gallery show, which she never attends. Oh well. One of the producers, Andy Davis, approaches me and we talk for a while about the movie (it's cool), the San Diego Comic-Con (we both liked the Golems baseball comic), and the Jackie Chan interview in Giant Robot (much to my relief, he likes it a lot). I say hi to Rattner a few seconds later, but I don't think he remembers me.

I feel like I'm on a roll now, and finally I track down Daniel once more. He is hanging out with a friend from Hong Kong, another actor named Terence. They are trying to convince a group of dolled-up Asian girls to go to the after-after-party. He says that they were extras from the movie's "Heaven on Earth" massage parlor scene, and at first I think he's making fun of their sleazy dress, but he's serious. They really were in that scene and they eventually decide to accept Terence and Daniel's invitation!