It’s 45 degrees outside, and Vanilla Ice has just frisked me.
Tattoos, lip ring, and loose cannon reputation aside, Rob Van Winkle is a pretty mellow guy. Gone are the baggy pants and zealously-gelled fade haircut of his alter-ego; the new Ice (can I call him Ice?) is handsome and gentlemanly, a family man who adores his two daughters and is quick with a genial giggle.
At least, when the cameras aren’t looking.
The man who famously “borrowed” a hook from Queen and is notorious for his destructive tendencies (forget the Surreal Life debacle -- remember when he took a baseball bat to his album, then the set furniture, on MTV, as a bemused Jon Stewart and Denis Leary looked on?) has the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. And though off-screen it’s charming, even jovial, it’s a different story when Rob Van Winkle morphs into Vanilla Ice: suddenly, in the glare of the cameras, he looks like a homicidal jack-o-lantern. The grin is just a little too wide, the hand gestures just a little too sharp.
The dichotomy lends itself well to public appearances, and Tuesday’s was no exception. In town to judge, of all things, an “Ice, Ice Baby” karaoke contest, Ice was all unnerving smiles as he talked about the crowd of freestylin’ wannabes that packed Copley Square Park at lunchtime. “Anytime people are smiling and having a good time, I love it,” he says, “It’s hard to do! A lot of people had a hard time catching up to the beat. It doesn’t wait for you. It doesn’t slow down. You gotta try to figure out where you’re at.”
Of course, you’d never catch Ice wielding a mic to the manufactured beat of Japan’s favorite party game. “I’ve never done karaoke. I don’t do karaoke,” he tells me, his lips twisting into an incredulous sneer as though I’ve just insulted the very essence of his manhood. I’m not sure if I should apologize or shield myself with the nearest piece of furniture, but he quickly slips back into friendly, affable Ice and pats down my jacket. “I get paid for that! Where’s your checkbook?”
The competition, a bizarre exhibition of ‘talent’ that required contestants to rewrite the words to Ice’s ‘90s anthem “Ice, Ice Baby”, was part of a promotional stunt brewed up by a certain prominent local coffee chain. One-by-one, people took the stage to spit rhymes in the hopes of winning $1000 and a year’s supply of – yep – iced, iced coffee. By noon the park was jam-packed with cheering fans and baffled onlookers, the latter group legitimately confused, perhaps, as to why the hell a crowd of people was so worked up over iced coffee in near-freezing temperatures. No matter. When contestant Kerry Michaels dropped a note-perfect “Word to your cruller!,” the confusion gave way to glee, and, dare I say, a little bit of respect.
Ice was an enthusiastic participant, tag-teaming with co-judge (and hometown comedy hero) Lenny Clarke for good-natured slams against those contestants who dared to get sassy. “That was entertaining for about ten seconds!” Ice told an unfortunate competitor wearing even more unfortunate sunglasses, who immediately spat back, “So was TheSurreal Life!”
