It was the early 80's and I was going out with a guy who worked at a theatre in downtown LA. Some film crew was making a documentary about a rock band - so he asked me to come to the theatre and meet him backstage, he'd be done at 6 and we could go have dinner.
I went to the theatre and looked around - the stage had a silly big styrofoam skull suspended from the rafters, the fog machine, dark shades of lighting, and the band was doing re-takes of a segment of a heavy metal song.
I went backstage to wait for the guy (whose name I don't remember today, by the way) and the band took a break. I stood next to the guitarist - or he stood next to me - he was close enough that if I'd leaned a little I would have bumped shoulders with him. He wore a silky chiffon white shirt and aqua eyeshadow. I was about twenty or so, and knew how to play it cool, so I did. Acted like I wasn't even curious. Even stifled some sarcasm because these guys seemed to be taking themselves so seriously.
Some time later my sister and I went to see the new Rob Reiner film - the first, "Rockumentary, if you will," and dogged if it wasn't the guy in chiffon - David St. Hubbins. I really shoulda said hello.
Note to self from future to past: say hello.
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