Several years ago when I was ensconced in the local art scene in Vancouver (Canada), I caught drift of a rumor that David Bowie would be landing at the dock down at the waterfront - at which point - he planned to check local venues for up-coming concert dates.
Since Mr. Bowie (in the glitter-Queen phase of his musical musings at the time) was antsy about air travel, he chose to take a cruise up the coast on a luxury liner.
All my pals were inclined to doll themselves up in wild "Ziggy" Stardust get-ups - and swarm the docks - to get an up-close in-your-face gander at the legendary stage performer.
Since I just got back from an all-night trek up the coast from San Francisco, I was dead tired. Too pooped to participate! But, how could I pass up a golden opportunity to meet Ziggy?
So, I sashayed down to the harbour with a gaggle of Queens in tow. To be truthful, I didn't expect much, except a glimpse of the celebrated pop icon from afar.
But, as luck would have it, our motley rag-tag gang was given the nod to flounce right alongside the musical wizard as he disembarked from the gangplank.
Well - at this fantastic juncture - hysteria broke out among the fans.
A host of Ziggy Stardust impersonators screamed out Bowie's name - and on the heels of the chant - shrieked with delight when he favored 'em with a wave their way. As the frenzied throngs surged forward - for one fleeting moment - I thought the wild-eyed fans might carve out an actual scrap of flesh for a ghoulish souvenir.
Nonetheless, Mr. Bowie remained cool, and barely blinked an eye.
In the eye of the storm - Cherry Vanilla (who was acting as a sort-of press agent) - managed to steer the scintillating pop entourage out of harm's way.
Rock historians probably recall that Cherry Vanilla was an infamous plaster-caster, known for fashioning strikingly realistic "molds" of the co**s of a handful of rock stars she'd bedded on the rocky road to fame.
Suddenly - out-of-the-blue - the gathering circus struck me as surreal.
What the heck, at this pivotal moment, I opted to take a leap into the great unknown. Yup, grab for the brass ring, if you will. After all, I was in a wild and zany mood heightened by the fact I was fantastically sleep-deprived.
As David brushed up next to me in the crush of ecstatic fans, I unabashedly asked for a kiss - in what amounted to a titillating tease - I guess.
Suddenly, Mr. Bowie turned - gazed deeply into my eyes - and leaned forward.
Then, in one brief moment, our lips touched!
As fate would have it, a couple of photographers quick on-the-uptake, excitedly snapped away and captured the entire episode on film!
I was flabbergasted a few days later when one of my pals rang me up on the telephone and reported some startling news.
"There's a picture of you and David Bowie kissing in the morning Terminal City Express!"
I suppose the caption should have read: Two stars collide!
Since that bizarre outlandish day, I haven't had the pleasure to cross paths with Mr. Bowie again.
If the honor ever descends on moi - I wonder - would the Pop Star know me from - um - Adam, let's say?
Naw, I used to look like Peter Frampton in those heady days!
Now, I'm just another pretty face in Tinsel town.
