Blind Item #8 - A Reader Blind Item

I just came across a recent interview with a member of an iconic group (we’ll call him “D”) which reminded me of a memorable situation I once found myself in. Everyone has always seemed to think of this guy as the epitome of cool, and he’s admired by many men of a certain age group.

When I was a teenager in the 80s, I hung around with some much cooler, older people, who lived in a decent sized east coast city. Many of these people were in bands or friends with people in bands, so they were familiar with touring bands from all over, mostly on the club level and punk rock in nature. As time went on, a handful of these bands went on to be wildly successful. This story involves one such trio.

My friend K knew these guys and asked me if I wanted to go see the trio in another east coast city, about an hour away, where they were scheduled to play a large venue. I said ok and we drove out there. I was almost 17 and had a junky car. This was long before cell phones, so we just hung around outside the venue before the concert until we ran into someone he knew. This guy, I’ll call “C” (who actually went on to be a fairly well known artist) asked me if I would help him find a girl who would be willing to be a part of the “stage show”. I obliged, and we had a very rough time finding a girl who was old enough (around 18+), not with her parents, and not attached to a boyfriend. Basically, she had to be willing to let go of her inhibitions, in front of thousands of people.

Finally, we found a girl who looked to be college aged, dressed scantily, and seemed up for anything. C quickly gave her the spiel and she agreed to be a part of the show.

C then invited us all back to the hotel to hang out with the group.

So, there I was hanging out with two of the three members of this group in the hotel room, post soundcheck, at around 5pm.

When I entered the room, the nicest guy in the group (who was wearing a hipster cowboy hat before they were hip), I’ll call him “B” (who is sadly now deceased), greeted me with “Howdy, dude!” and tipped his hat my way, which I thought was very sweet, given that I’m female. I’m sure I blushed.

Sitting by the window was their traveling photographer friend “R” (also a pretty famous artist and character) who was studying his slides of the band. Other people in the room were deep in conversation. I was trying to act like I belonged, even though I felt awkward and didn’t really know anyone, and had no one to talk to. The girl C found for the show was no longer in the hotel room and I didn’t know where she went. There were some other girls in the room too and I didn’t know her anyway, so I wasn’t really thinking about it too much.

One guy from the group, I’ll call him “H”, grabbed the phone in the room and dragged it out into the hall and closed the door. The cord was really long. Someone said he was on the phone with his at the time A+ movie actress girlfriend, “S”, whom everyone knows and loved back then (she doesn’t work as much as she used to but at that time, she was a superstar).

A few minutes later, band member three, “D” came bursting into the room. He was very sweaty in a panic. He looked at me and the two other girls sitting on the bed and yelled “HEY! I need one of you girls to get me ready. I’ve got this chick in the next room waiting, so who’s going to help me out? Huh? I need one of you to get me ready! NOW! WELL?”.

I sheepishly looked around for help and said “not me” and the other girls said some version of the same and he promptly said “then what the fuck are you doing here? get THE FUCK OUT!” and ran and opened the door and pushed us out. I had no idea I was going to be required to be a “fluffer”,  so I left, feeling awful about the whole experience. As I walked out, I saw A sitting on the floor down the hall, still on the phone, looking distraught.

Group:
B (Nice band member):
H (Band member on phone):
S (A+ list GF on phone):
D, (Band member needing fluffer):

Bonus:
Friend C:
Friend R: