Chris Parker & Me - Part V

The re-meet is on! And I've only got a couple of days to prepare.

First, I hit the gym:Then, off to the plastic surgeon:

He invited me to have an early dinner before his rehearsal. I'm very excited and very nervous. I don't know what to expect. He's staying and playing in Cerritos. That's in the O. C. I live in the Valley. About 30 miles away by freeway. It's Friday, around 4pm. I hop in the car and take the 101 East to the 5 South. And then I sit and I sit and I sit. L.A. rush hour. It takes me two and a half hours to get there. I wouldn't do that for just anyone. Wow, I must like drummer(s).

So, we have a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant. Talk about this and that. Since he paints, I give him a copy of my book, Starart:And he gives me my ticket and backstage pass for the show the following night:
And then he sends me on my way. But not before he asks me to bring my camera to the show. [WHAT?? I don't shoot concerts anymore. I shoot pictures of knives and body doubles and screaming girls and other stuff to use in the presale movie posters I design. I don't remember the last time I shot a concert.] Okay, sure, I'll bring my camera.
****
I arrive a little early on Saturday night. The concert hall is right behind the hotel so I decide to park in the free hotel lot and walk through the lobby. As I'm about to pass the elevators, the door opens and out walks Chris. Good timing. Maybe it's me with a camera that creates our connection. Anyway, there's something very enticing about a musician who's on his way to play. We walk together and head backstage. Chris is sweet. He introduces me to all the players. Too many drummers to remember. Then he shows me one of his sketch books that he takes on the road. Pages and pages of beautiful water colors. How come he gets all the talent? I admire one in painting in particular. And right then and there he tears it out and gives it to me:
Okay, you had me at hello.

Then, I'm off to shoot the show. Ooops, the battery that controls the light meter in my camera is out of juice. Okay, don't panic. What did I use to shoot at? Push the film to 400? Or was it 800? Shoot wide open at a 60th? That sounds familiar. Oh my God...what if the pictures suck? All these other photographers here. All shooting digital. They can see their pictures on the camera screen. Dirty cheaters. I didn't bring my big-ass digital. No way. I'm shooting old school. Fuck. What if my pictures don't turn out? And I only brought one roll of film. No room to bracket. Oh well, I'm just here to have fun.

The music was AMAZING. You can read about who was there, HERE.
There were five drum kits set up on the stage. At the end, the drummers jammed five at a time, replacing each other in a drummer relay without missing a beat. I wonder if anybody recorded it. If so, I'd like a CD. Here are some of my pics (not bad for guessing):

Chris Parker

Ralph MacDonald - songwriter/percussionist extraordinaire

and plays in Chris' band Toph-E and the Pussycats.

Will Lee - Bass player on Letterman
and Chris' band Toph-E and the Pussycats.

Doug Aldrich - White Snake

The show ends. After we hang out backstage for awhile, I follow Chris around during the meet and greet in the lobby. Then a bunch of the players talk about meeting at the hotel bar for a drink. By the time we get there, it's closed. They all decide to head across the street to TGIFs or some other high class Orange County eatery/bar. But before we can go, Chris needs to put his bag in his room. He asks if I want to go up with him. Sure. Uh oh.

As we enter his room, we make some silly joke about the two of us and hotel rooms. You know, here we are again, after all these years, in a hotel room together. He puts his bag away and for some reason we just assume the position. I sit on the end of the bed and he sits in the chair. We start talking. And talking. And talking. All night long. Just like the last time. Alone in his hotel room. A little older. None the wiser. We completely forget about going to the bar. Uh oh. If I remember correctly, it went something like this:
And then it happened. I couldn't believe it. What I'd been waiting for all these years.

SEX

I'm not kidding. I can't believe I'm actually telling you this. But I can't help myself.

It wasn't just regular sex. It was passionate sex. It was loud sex. It was extreme sex. It was ultimate sex...

SEX

...And it was coming from the room next door.

What do they say? Close, but no cigar? Yes, but they also say, third time's the charm. I'll probably be on oxygen by then.

*the small amount of vanity I have is forcing me to reveal that the photos of the elderly woman in the above cartoon are not me (gotta love those eyebrows). The photos of Chris are Chris - hope he doesn't mind that I stole them off his website. The gym shot and the plastic surgeon shot are borrowed stock photos as well.