LB |
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Chapter 9 |
| The earth is a vastly beautiful place. I highly recommend seeing as much of it as you possibly can. I deboarded the train in an enormous (and enormously handsome) old, empty train station in Springfield, Massachusetts. Train stations were so grand. I love them. You are never truly alone in a train station -- all those people who've been through it -- lovers parting, meeting, all the anticipation, excitement, dread and sorrow -- anything anyone has ever felt while passing through leaves its scent, its essence. I stood in the middle of the floor on the lower level, looking at all the details in the design, standing in a piece of time. In the old days, even cheap and simple was glorious. "Benton!" someone called. "Benton!" another voice echoed. I turned and looked up at two guys leaning over the railing upstairs. "Hey!" They came running down the stairs. I'd finally met K. and M. Can't remember a single thing we talked about on our way to Worcester to see the Pretenders, but it was fun! I'd brought my scrapbook for K. and M. to look at, then got the idea to ask the band to sign it. An autographed scrapbook -- neat! Just a bit after we got there, the guys arrived. I hadn't met them before. Said hi to Malcolm and Robbie. And wow -- Martin, the man himself! -- the best drummer in the world, inarguably a great performer. Everyone got their stuff signed by Martin except me. I'm always reluctant to ask (although it wasn't too painful). I dread it actually. What a dumb thing to ask -- would you write your name on this? With Chrissie I hadn't had to ask, but I'd have to now. Damn. These airhead girls giggled at everything Martin said. Were they attempting to be cute? K. asked where Chrissie was. "She's at the hotel. Resting. She'd better be resting." Chrissie was carrying Baby #2 around at the time. M. asked what kind of car Chrissie had, since we'd discussed this amongst ourselves after a comment she'd made during an interview. Something about she bought the cheapest car on the lot -- then it was impounded and she said they could keep it. Just a piece of trivia. Martin said it was a Saab. I spoke up, "The police impounded it." Martin was signing something else and looking down, nodding at my statement, "They told her 'Stop Your Saabing'." "Ooooh!" Martin threw his head back laughing. Another question was asked. I don't remember it, but it involved Martin saying, "Worcester." The girls giggled at the way he pronounced it, and asked him to say it again, which he did. He looked annoyed, looked at me. I shrugged, rolled my eyes. He smiled. "What's that there?" "Umm, it's my scrapbook. Would you sign it?" (As I'm writing this, I stopped and looked out the window -- a brown Saab just went by -- tee hee!) "Of course, love." I handed it over and he opened it and looked at every page, making comments about stuff. There is one picture that's horrible and he was like, "Ack! What happened there?" Picture from the "Message of Love" video. "What a great day that was. We had a lot of fun making that video." Then a few times, "I remember this!" Then he'd tell a story that went with it. I think he really enjoyed looking through that stuff. The girls left, a bit miffed that they weren't included. Hey, they could've stayed. Geez. The way I see it, the more Pretenders fans, the merrier. When he was finished, he went back to the front of the book and began writing. I couldn't read it because it was upside-down and tilted towards Martin. K. and M. were stretching their necks trying to see what he was doing for so long. "What's your name? "Lisa." "Lisa what?" "Benton." "B-E-N-T-O-N?" "Yep." He snapped it shut and handed it back. "I'd better go." Malcolm and Robbie were long gone. "See ya, Martin. Thanks." "See you later. Take care." When he disappeared through the open doors, we just about tore the cover off my scrapbook trying to open it. "What'd he write, what'd he write?" In very large letters, he wrote, "This album belongs to Lisa Benton. If you find it give it back or I'll break your leg(s)," with the most gorgeous billboard-sized signature below it. I love Martin. This was so wonderful. K. and M. were amazed. They kept saying, "Benton, it's so cool what Martin wrote in your book." That was what I kept thinking, too. This tall, dark and dumb fellow approached. Had shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt on, to show off all his big muscles. And no hat -- to show off the big muscle in his head? And sunglasses. "Hey." I didn't know him -- maybe K. and M. did? Since that's not my name -- not even a nickname -- I ignored him. "Hey!" K. looked up. M. had walked off. "You guys need tickets?" We had floor seats, 19th row or something. Not bad seats. K. asked him what kind of seats he had. The guy was fooling around. "Good ones. Floor seats." Right or wrong, I size people up pretty quickly and I either really like them or I don't. I never stay in that mode long enough to go in-depth. I probably shouldn't be that way, but I always have been and it's not anything I've ever felt the need to change. Didn't like this guy. Bad vibe. He felt like a jerk -- some dumb little rich boy scalping tickets so he'd have more money for a nose load of coke. But how would I know? Anyhow, this guy was screwing around, not telling us where the seats were. K. was a bit nervous. Junior was chewing this wad of gum and he blew a bubble, popped it, and it stuck all over his bottom lip. He was trying to be cool and scrape it off with his teeth, but it wasn't working. After a bit of this, I started laughing. I couldn't help it. I don't contain my feelings well -- they spill out everywhere. K. elbowed me to shut up. I put my head down but kept chuckling more now that I wasn't supposed to. The guy started talking again but the gum was still stuck on his lip -- he kept trying to get it off and I kept laughing more and more. Finally he moved on. K. was relieved but not happy with me. "Benton, I thought he was gonna hit me because you were laughin' at him." I said, "Come on -- he was a jerk, he wasn't gonna do anything. Awww, I wouldn't let him hurt you. I could take him." I still laugh when I think of that chump with the gum stuck to his lip, trying to be nonchalant and scrape it off with his teeth. No one showed up for Simple Minds, which was fine with me because I could see them really well. I assume we saw the Pretenders (who did change the name of the band after Jim Honeyman-Scott's death -- from "Pretenders" to "The Pretenders" -- did anyone else notice?), but I cannot recall a single detail of the show. I do remember K. talking to a girl after the show who had made a necklace out of a harmonica that Chrissie had given her. As much as I'd like to have a harmonica from Chrissie, I don't think I'd make it into a necklace. A lamp, maybe, but not a necklace... I mean, hey, don't be silly. I stayed with K. and M. for a week, then I went home. And hey, hey, hey! I'd get to see the Pretenders when I got home, too! The show in Worcester was August 11, 1984, and on August 31, I'd get to see 'em at the Greek Theater in Berkeley and again the next night, same place. Then again the next night in Fresno. During my visit, K. and M. both told me that, since I'd come all the way there, I could have a poster from each of them. K. went first. Of course, I tried to talk them out of it - but hey, you want to give me a poster of my choice, I'm not gonna put up too much of a fight. But I kept asking, Are you sure you want to do this? And, If you decide you can't give it away, you can have it back, OK? They insisted. Gig posters. K. was always disappointed with them - they never seemed to have a picture of the band on them. I love gig posters. I got one from him - Pretenders & The Bureau at Locarno Portsmouth, July 27, 1980. Then I got one from M. I said, I know how much you love that Message of Love poster - about as much as I do, so I won't take it. Relieved, he said, I don't think I could give that one up. He promised that if the day ever came when he sold it, it was mine. It was practically a blood oath. I got the old stock poster with the green background from him. |
