Little tidbits keeping popping into my head from Vegas. The memory I have of the
elusive and majestic Tommy Johnston whooshing past me in the hotel casino will stay
indelibly printed on my memory forever. I wasn't as awe-struck by the Doobies as much
as I had thought I'd be. They were warm and earthy but,Tommy was the exception. Clad
in a metalic blue shirt, butt-tight jeans, leather boots and stamped with tattoos, TJ
strode confidently and aerodynamically through a crowd of us waiting to go into the
Orleans theatre. He walked with a sense of urgency and purpose and gazed at no one.
(maybe he had to tinkle!!! hee hee) More than likely, he was trying to avoid nuts like
me. I still remember that breeze he created. I heard someone say, "hey TJ!!" He gave
a slight nod of acknowledgement and an economical smile before disappearing into the
blackness of the theatre, only to be seen again on stage strutting, crowing and making
magical noises with his axe. During the encore, he !
threw guitar picks into the audience as if he were feeding peanuts to a pack of wild
animals. Fans scrambled for the plastic tokens from the Chunka Chunka King. And me?
I maintained a dignified pose and studied the rock star with wide-eyed wonderment and
a smile. Aaahhh...rock-n-roll royalty. It still exists.
---
cinderella
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