She was two feet away from him, back to back – close enough to inhale his rock-star pheromones and hear his “Running on Empty” voice talking to the people behind us in line.
The moment she’d waited for her entire life was here.
The man, the artist, standing right there, within arm’s reach, as we waited to see him and other musicians perform a benefit concert at the Theatricum Botanicum in Topanga Canyon.
What cruel twist of fate brought this choice to her now, after all of these years of waiting, hoping?
She needed to decide: say nothing, or seize the opportunity to meet the man of her teenage dreams after years of longing and listening to his music, first on scratchy records, then CDs that could easily be played over and over again until the laser in the CD player burned out. And of course there were the dreamy posters of Jackson with his cool rock-star hair and model good looks.
Oh, Jackson, if we ever meet, it will be love at first sight for the two of us.All she had to do was turn around, look him in the eyes, and say, “I’ve dreamed about you for years. I’m yours, kiss me now, I’ll leave my husband and we’ll run away and live off of your money until the end, which, because you’re older, will probably come sooner.”
But she didn’t. She chose me over of an aging multimillionaire rock star. Yes, me, a genetically defective mutant who spends several weeks each year in the hospital.
And all I have to say is, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, HONEY? That was your chance and you blew it.
Poor Jackson. He’ll never know the love and goodness he missed out on.
Underdog 1, Jackson Browne 0.