Friday Writing Essential—Close Encounters—July 24th, 2009

I was never a big fan of “clubbing”, although in my younger days, my boyfriend (now husband) repeatedly tried to get me to go out and party.

This particular day, twenty-two years ago, before we were married, we had been down at the beach, walking along the pier and enjoying a beautiful, warm summer day. A few hundred yards from the beach was a local frozen custard stand and next to it, a rock-and-roll club that had been there for many years. We ordered ice cream cones and walked next door to look at posters that announced coming attractions. I knew my husband was hoping I’d find something interesting, and while I stood there contemplating the choices, I heard a voice behind me that sounded vaguely familiar.

“There’s a great show tonight that you might like.”

I turned around and almost dropped my cone when I saw Lou Gramm, former lead singer of Foreigner, standing about two feet away, looking at me. He had long, curly blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a very sexy smile. My heart was pounding so fast I was sure he could hear it.

“I’ll give you two free tickets if you promise to come tonight and stand at the front of the stage.” He smiled as he extended the tickets to me.

I looked for my husband, who was now standing behind Lou. Both of them stared at me as I stammered, “S-Sure. I’d love to come.”

“Great!” Lou responded. “I’ll be looking for you tonight.” He took my hand, gave it a quick squeeze, and wandered off towards a shiny Cadillac parked across the street. He got in, turned the car around, and waved as he drove away.

I turned around slowly, and my husband, knowing Lou Gramm was my favorite singer, teasingly asked if I really wanted to see the show.

“Of course!” I exclaimed. I knew the Grammatico family lived in the area, but I had never seen any of them in person. Lou had just put together a new backup band, and the performance that night was a one-time preview of his new solo album. Never one to be a groupie, I still felt like I was going to faint.

My husband laughed. “Wow, you’ve got it bad. I’d better get you home so you can rest up for your big night out.”

We ended up having a wonderful night and true to his words, Lou Gramm made sure I had a spot on the floor right in front of him. I was so close; I literally could have reached out my hand and touched him during the performance. He sang several songs directly to me, and I admit to being totally smitten. He had the most incredible voice I'd ever heard—the kind that sends chills down your spine. I was barely aware of my husband standing behind me during the show until it was well over.

Needless to say, I bought the Ready Or Not CD when it came out the following week, and played it repeatedly, always remembering that special night. My husband well-survived his night of taking a back seat, though he teased me about it for years. I suspected he may have had something to do with the encounter, but he swears he did not.

I didn’t see Lou again until several years later when I ran into him at the grocery store checkout. I was sure he wouldn't remember me, but he smiled as though he did. “Don’t I know you?” he asked.

I was surprised by his question and told him that no, he didn’t know me, but I’d been at his show a few years earlier. He replied that he did remember me—eating the ice cream cone in front of the club and standing in front of him at the concert that night. He said a quick goodbye and hurried off with his bag of groceries. I stood there, trying to focus on my own purchases as the much older checkout clerk looked at me, obviously having no idea who had just passed through her line. She looked slightly annoyed by my distraction.

I did see him again a few years ago, in the vet’s office, trying to control his large dog as he struggled to keep him still on the weigh-in scale. He didn’t see me, and I was sure at this point that he had long since forgotten me. I decided not to push my luck and be satisfied with my memories of our brief conversations and the wonderful concert night.

That was the last time I saw him. I always wondered if I should have said more, told him how much his music and his kindness meant to me. I was too star-struck at the time to think of those things, but I’m guessing he knew how I felt—just as many of his fans did.

Have you ever had a just-by-chance opportunity to speak with famous person like a musician, an author, or an actor?

For today’s prompt, either write about a true encounter you’ve had with a famous person or pretend that you’re sitting next to one on an airplane. What conversation, if any, would you like to have with them?  Include any observances about them and how you are feeling during this encounter.  Assume for the purpose of this exercise that the person is someone you actually admire.