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My Brush with Greatness
 
Brush With Greatness is one of the best click/link ideas you've ever come up with.
EVERYBODY has a story, and you never know who the celebrity will be.
Similarly, I've learned about a few below-the-radar heroes and interesting people via this feature.



The Stones came to town in 1983.
A woman friend got me a ticket; we paid a whopping $17 for exclusive floor seats at Keil Auditorium.
When we got there and the music started, the sound was TERRIBLE.

(I swear, I never saw a band in a large venue in my youth that sounded like anything but shit.
Sound design has certainly come a long way since then, but I missed a lot of concerts because
I was tired of wasting my money. If the music doesn't SOUND good, why go?

To get drunk and wasted? To listen to echoes and feedback and illegible vocals? No thanks.)

We stood on our chairs for the entire time the Stones were onstage, like everyone else unlucky
enough to be sitting on the orchestra floor. For the first half of the show, the sound was mud and
we couldn't see a thing over everyone's heads in the way. But...after a while, the security policing
the corners of every section began to grow lax.

 I saw my chance. Before I could tell my friend Mimi, I saw the bouncer turn a corner
and attend to some problem. I ran.

Made it all the way to the stage--well, not quite. There were 20-foot catwalk stages pushed out into
the crowd. Mick had regularly thrilled those around them by dancing down and teasing them; he was
at least ten feet over the heads of the crowd. Just close enough to thrill and far enough away to keep
him safe. Every time he danced down, they went apeshit.

At one point earlier, when I was still back in the 45th row, Mick went down the LEFT catwalk and
picked up a simple bucket sitting on the edge of the stage. The crowd in his immediate vicinity went wild;
everyone else just watched. He started to toss it into the crowd...everyone backed away...he faked
them again....they shirked and laughed and wondered what the hell he was doing...and then he FLUNG
the contents into the crowd at the end of the catwalk.

Glitter and confetti rained down on their heads. They all went "Ooooooh!" and laughed, and the show went on.

This happened on the complete opposite side of the arena from my seat.
I saw the glitter and heard the "Oooooh!", but had no idea what it was about until my turn came.

There I was, at the very end of the RIGHT SIDE catwalk. Almost on cue, just a few minutes later,
here comes Mick, dancing, singing (I don't remember the song, and I wish I did). The crowd pressed in
towards the catwalk, abandoning their seats, etc, pushing me right along with them. 

Same thing happens: He picks up a bucket, fakes out the crowd, fakes again, and flings a bucketful
of COLD WATER--almost all of which landed on me and my best brand new cheap black suit.

I had no idea why Mick Jagger doused me with a bucket of water,
but I'll tell you this much, Bartcop and anyone else who will listen:

I was baptized by the Devil, baby!

ha ha

Like the guy in today's page, I promise I'll send you cash when I get the next chance, Bart.
You are way too important to us...and it's in Bush's Master Plan to make it harder than ever to contribute in bad times.

Your friend,

Daddy-O

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