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Oh sure, I'm also bummed I didn't get my interview with him. But I can't saddle him with all the blame on that. First off - there's no guarantee that he read my message that awaited him in his dressing room, especially since he ended up in another room. That guy Frankie - the young preppie looking Briton decked out in tennis attire - was a major obstacle I couldn't overcome. The other tour co-ordinator, Arnold, was very nice and tried to be helpful, but there was only so much he could do.
The beautiful boy was so close! He passed by so close to me as he entered the room next to the one I was in. His sleeping body was only a few feet from me but we were separated by a wall. He probably never knew I was there. He had to sleep off the hangover that resulted from an intense night of partying in Norfolk, Virginia, the night before. He was in no mood to be swayed to an interview.
The afternoon wasn't a total loss. I got quite a bit of The Fountainhead read as I tried to wait unobtrusively in a production room. I kept Arnold and other tour personnel entertained reading sexual activities in the storyline of the Ayn Rand novel.
Arnold is worth a mention. This 39-year-old Britain with long curly hair (a la Gino Vanelli) claims to love tennis. He has a wife and two kids, but I gathered that they are separated or divorced. He was very friendly but made no obvious moves to pick me up or anything. I felt very comfortable around him.
Another person who caught my eye was a cute young thing named Derek. He had long curly hair - nearly heavy metalesque. His eyes, though, were sorta Duranyesque. You know, the beautiful kind - the kind that looks great with make-up. He was on the Pro-Motions crew. I'd like to see him again sometime.
There was no hope to get an interview after the show because the band was to be whisked off to the airport, on their way to Sarasota, Florida. My car was parked on the street right next to where the limos were supposed to come out. As Power Station played their last song ("Bang A Gong") I headed for my car. But as I unlocked the door, an officer (conveniently) warned me that I couldn't move my car just yet. This gave me a front row seat to watch the boys get loaded up in their escape vehicles. Already a couple of groupies were waiting. One young blonde, camera in hand, leaned her ass against my window while I waited for me chance to go. As the limos and vans rushed out, I started my car and the girl came up to my window, which was rolled down.
"Are you with them?" she asked excitedly. THEM, of course, meaning The Boys.
"Nope." I said and started my car.
"Yeah, but you're gonna be, aren't you," she said, wide-eyed with conviction.
"Nope." I said with a smile and took off. I don't think she believed me. There was no point in bragging about the brief looks I got at my beautiful Durany in the hallway, or how I almost ran into the tiny makeupless Andy Taylor as I came out of the bathroom, or that I had actually met John Taylor et. al. backstage at a Durany concert the year before.
To humor myself, I lagged behind the entourage - even passed them at one point. But my damn car decided to stall out on me, so I lost them.
As I drove home, I didn't feel bummed out, although it would have been nice to have interviewed the real Durany face-to-face. Somehow, though, having the night off and the windows rolled down, I felt very free for a change. Summertime is great. It's nice to not have to wear a coat in the middle of the night to spend time outside after midnight. I looked forward to plopping down on the couch with a beer and eggrolls and watching TV.
No more interviews - or attempts - I've decided. The backstage scene is so pretentious. Everyone thinks they're so goddam important. I hate feeling like I'm on the outside looking in. I hate being classified in the same group as those drooling young girls hanging out by the stage. Oh I had to do what I did Sunday or else I'd have to live with "what if's." I probably did about all I could do. But it's all sort of degrading. No more.
-- Written July 1985 (DD)
This page was updated July 27, 2008.
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