Brush With Fame: Psychedelic Furs Tim Butler in BFE, KY

Tim Butler, front as good as center during The Ritz in Tampa, Sep. 2009: mansun79

No good can come of the celebrity encounter. It is destined to be an exercise in humiliation, regret, missed-opportunity, as good as self-loathing. This is my experience, anyway.

Flip the calendar behind to 1996, when we was given the prerogative of pushing in Al Gores motorcade for the tough work we had not long ago put in in helping Bill Clinton win the second term. Knowing Id have the payoff of the customary photo-op, we sat up the dusk before, handcrafting the saddest small Gore2000 symbol you ever saw. The demeanour upon his face spoke volumes of embarrassment, not for him, but for me.

The demeanour upon his face spoke volumes of embarrassment, not for him, but for me.

Years later, we stood outside the stage doorway to the Palace Theatre in Louisville, Kentucky, watchful for John Prine to emerge. we was holding 25 as good as annals as good as the Sharpie, tears pouring down my face. He sealed them, calming me, It will be okay, kid.

The week finish before last, lesson not learned, imagine my excitement as we detected which Tim Butler of the Psychedelic Furs had somehow found his approach to the most doubtful of parties upon the farm, deep in the woodlands of Central Kentucky.

I had been encircling him, watchful for my moment, plotting as good as planning, listening to his conversation for the improved part of the half hour. we should have known how it disastrously it would end, but we had assured myself which this time, distinct the alternative times, Id be able to muster the grace as good as quick mind indispensable to charm him into, well, liking me, as unhappy as which sounds.

Deluding myself which we had surely stoical the perfect ice-breaking line, the line so clever it had to be my ticket into the sealed environs of the celebrity, we a! pproache d, visions of backstage bacchanals as good as red-carpet premieres dancing through my star-struck head.

Um, when we woke up this morning, the last thing we thought Id be you do currently was assembly the bass player from the Psychedelic Furs during the plantation cookout in South-Central Kentucky! What the fuck are you you do here?

Surreptitious photo of contrition of Tim Butler as good as his wife: Author

Whats wrong with here? we similar to it. Dont you?

Oh, yes. Id insulted his adopted home, my home state, as good as the event we were both invited to, all in the single flaming, tire-squealing, automobile pile-up of the FML, mouth-meets-foot moment.

Red-hot humiliation.

No parties, no backstage passes, no free tickets to shows. No new, fanciful friends or week finish invites to exotic locales. No zero but years of bewail as good as replay, late night quiet time thoughts of missed chances, as good as the doorway open in between the worlds welded close once again, forever.

Um, yeah. Its nice. My wifes from around here

Three awkward as good as silent mins later, we slinked-away, behind to my smirking wife, who didnt need to ask. My inflamed cheeks told her all she indispensable to know.

Community Connection

Got your own Brush With Fame to share? Find out how to infer Edward Nearys chagrin is the drop in the bucket or which the celebrity confront doesnt regularly have to be something youll bewail from which day forward by submitting your own story today.

And if youre not quite in BFE, find out about Urban Volunteering in Louisville, Kentucky upon MatadorChange.


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