On the way to Charlotte we stopped for barbeque in Lexington. The waitress gave me a big smile:
'We were wondering - are y'all a rock star?'
I gave her my best no I'm just a bloke look but she persisted and I eventually copped to being a musician. I have to admit to being a bit pleased after all those times in France when Amy and I tried to get gigs and failed. 'We're a band' we'd explain to various bar owners who looked at us pityingly with expressions that said no you're not, you're just a deluded middle-aged couple, before explaining to us that ici on a des groupes professionel qui viennent jouer.
Amy went off to the rest room and the waitress sidled up again: 'Come on honey, you can tell me, you're the singer in a big rock group aintcha - is it The Who?'
I started to turn into Hugh Grant, a mixture of being flattered and forbearance for someone who's obviously a simpleton: 'Well I... that is er... yes in a manner of - boyhood dreams and all that...'
'Oh my, I just knew it!'
Next thing the owner's over and we're being offered a tour of the place and samples of everything on the house, and he's telling me how blessed he is to have such a successful barbeque joint, and how Bruce Springstein and Neil Young and John Mellencamp have all stopped by on the way through and what a huge Bowie fan he is, and he's giving us his card for next time y'all come back...
Fortunately we had to leave or we would have been late for the soundcheck. I think it was for the best.
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