Kinky Connections In Double – Or How I Met My Heroes, The Kinks, By Holly Homan

[Update 3/3/2012: In the half year since this was originally posted, Holly has found a photo signed by Ray Davies, upon which he drew a moustache on his face and a copy of the dollar off coupon for “Give the Public What They Want” which was given away at the concert.]

[Ed. Note – Shortly after the following amazing events occurred, Seattle writer Holly Homan typed out this story on an old school typewriter so she wouldn’t forget. All the photos she took at the time were slides. This past summer, as the 30th anniversary approached, she decided to share these memories with the world. She entered her typewritten account into a computer, had the slides scanned into jpegs and found the glowing toy which seemed to open the doors of the magic Kinkdom. Every word you are about to read is true and accurate, recorded for posterity 30 years ago. Says Holly, “If you’ve ever seen the movie I Wanna Hold Your Hand about these kids trying to meet the Beatles, that was us!”]

It was September fourth, 1981. I had seen The Kinks the year prior, but felt cheated as that show was cut short after a couple dudes snuck into the show without paying, crawled up into the rafters for a bird’s eye view, and one of them fell, landing on spectators and injuring some quite severely. It was extra frustrating that the event happened just before my friend and I got close enough to touch guitarist Dave Davies, the one we thought was the cutest.

So when I learned The Kinks were coming to Seattle again, I was ready. I attended with my friend Kimmy and my baby sister Heather, who was all of sixteen years old. Kimmy, Heather and I spent the night in my studio apartment close to downtown Seattle and a quick bus ride to where the concert was to be held. We plotted how we would meet them this time, but first we needed to find out where the band was staying.

As we left my apartment, I grabbed my glow-in-the-dark yo-yo and stuffed it in my pocket. This would stave off boredom if we had to stand around waiting for the band to show up somewhere.

A short bus ride dropped us at what was then called The Coliseum, a huge concert/sports arena that sat at the west end of the old World Fair grounds and was now a public park. We wandered outside the building before knowing we’d found the backstage entrance when we spotted two large trucks parked by an entrance open half as wide as the whole north side of the Coliseum. We parked ourselves against a tree, keeping our eyes peeled for any band members.

“Hey, you guys can’t sit over there!” some guy yelled from the entrance.

“It’s a public park and we should be able to sit where we want,” I grumbled. We began meandering past them and I took my yo-yo out and started practicing.

The same Roadie yelled something about my yo-yo. I couldn’t understand him so we walked over and asked him to repeat what he’d said. He told me to do some fancy tricks with my yo-yo. I did an around the world and asked if The Kinks were coming for a sound check.

“You just missed ’em,” he said.

I started doubting him, but he assured me he was being truthful. He pointed out the huge sliding doors that were now being closed. That was enough to convince me. I then asked if they knew where the band was staying.

“The Hilton.”

It was that easy. Just ask and get an answer.

“The new one?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

So they weren’t staying at the Edgewater as most bands did while playing in Seattle. We hopped on the next bus heading into downtown, about a ten-minute bus ride. Hopping off the bus, we then had to walk up a couple steep hills to the hotel. Kimmy, a bit overweight and not an active person, grumbled the entire time. We arrived breathless and slightly sweaty, and to our surprise, the doorman opened the door for us. I was almost sure we’d be turned away. We looked pretty scruffy inn our jeans and t-shirts. I was dressed in a fading Jim Morrison t-shirt, blue jeans and rock band buttons scattered all over my shirt. Kimmy was in bright magenta pants with Kinks buttons pinned artistically to her sweater. Heather, dressed like any other teenager, wore a colorful jersey, expensive designer jeans, Nikes and was cute as a button. Her blond hair perfectly coiffed and feathered.

We found a secluded payphone so Kimmy could call the front desk to see if any of the band had checked in. She asked about Dave Davies, pretending to be the band’s management. No Dave Davies was listed on the hotel roster.

The next plan was to find out where the suites were located. Surely a band as classy as The Kinks would stay in the suites. Well, Dave and Ray for sure would. Heather and I waited in the distance as Kimmy bravely approached the desk.

She returned moments later to reveal she was told there were suites on every floor. There was only one solution. We must stop at every floor and listen for British accents.

Into the elevator and up to the top floor, we would then stop at every floor on the way down. Four of the six suites had double doors. Those would be the ones we’d check first. We took turns sticking an ear up to the door, but all were silent except one. We could hear male voices, but couldn’t tell if the voices were British. After figuring they weren’t in any of the top floor suites, we systematically did the same on each floor on the way back down. When an elevator arrived, two dignified looking, older women came out. One woman appeared to be giving the other a tour, as she was pointing things out on the floor and explaining what they were. She stopped abruptly after noticing us and recoiled as if being in our presence would give her some nasty disease. We staggered into the elevator and collapsed against the wall with laughter as the doors closed.

Down to the next floor, we repeated our listening, this time listening in at other doors rather than just the suites. No luck on that floor, so we headed for the elevator once again. This became too tedious too quickly, so we stopped our elevator at each floor and peeked out instead, hoping maybe to catch one of them walking down the hall. We managed about two or three more floors before more people boarded the elevator and got annoyed with us. We stepped off the elevator half way back to the lobby on the floor holding the health club. I checked out the guest list but no Kinks names appeared and of the voices we could hear, none were British. More determined than ever, we ventured back to the elevators. When the next elevator arrived, Tour Guide and her companion stepped out. Tour Guide gave us another glare before we boarded the elevator. This time we landed on the mezzanine level where a bar and two restaurants were located. One of the restaurants had a railing overlooking the lobby. This was where we decided to take a breather and get something to eat. Maybe if we made it last long enough, we wouldn’t look like we were loitering. We asked various wait staff if they’d noticed anyone come through with British accents, but the answer was always negative. As we ate ice cream and discussed our next plan, a woman with frizzy, purple hair came out of an elevator. I pointed her out to my companions. “She looks like she could be a groupie.”

Ironically she was seated at the table beside ours about two feet away. I immediately noticed the Kinks backstage pass pasted to her purse. I asked if she knew what room the Kinks were in, but she refused to tell us anything.

“We’ll buy your coffee,” Kimmy offered.

Still, “No.”

“Will you tell us if we guess,” I asked.

She shook her head, then added in a very patronizing tone, “Don’t you think they deserve a little privacy?”

“Sure,” I answered, “but we’d like to say hello and get autographs. That’s all.”

She continued her patronizing tone. “Well, just stay back and give them a little space and they’ll be real nice.” I was a bit incensed at her holier than thou attitude.

A woman with short blond hair and a pierced nose came in and joined Purple Hair. They talked, but when we tried to eavesdrop they lowered their voices.

It was getting close to six and though the reserved show wasn’t due to start until eight, a local station was giving away dollar off coupons for The Kinks new album “Give the People What They Want” to the first two thousand to show up at the concert and we wanted to be one of the two thousand.

As we got up to leave, Purple Hair said, “Good luck, girls. Things will work out for you.”

Before taking our places in line at the Coliseum, we stopped in a near-by restroom to dismantle and distribute my camera and lenses to strap on our bodies for smuggling. I’d brought a role of masking tape so we could strap the lenses and camera to body parts security couldn’t search. Kimmy took the camera and taped it to her inner thigh while I strapped my foot-long two hundred-millimeter lens to the inside of my right leg. Heather did the same with my fifty-millimeter lens and the three of us limped into line.

Fortunately our innocent looks got us past security and we collected our stickers, bought some t-shirts and a program and found our seats.

After a horrible opening act, The Kinks finally came on stage. Reserved seating soon became a free-for-all as fifteen thousand fans stormed the stage. This resulted in several seats getting abandoned and I was able to jump ahead several rows while standing on said seats. This also resulted in some great angles for shooting pictures.

About half way into the set they performed a song from the new album called Yo-Yo. That would explain why the roadie was so interested in my yo-yo earlier. Cool!

After the final encore faded and the band left the stage for good, Kimmy, Heather and I followed the tide surge of other concert-goers now leaving the Coliseum. We hopped on the next bus back to the hotel. As we anxiously waited by the back doors of the bus, Kimmy began pleading, “God, if you exist, this is your chance to prove it.”

“I’ll start having second thoughts about my status as atheist,” I chimed in.

Some people sitting near-by started laughing and wished us luck as the bus doors opened and we jumped out.

This time the doorman smiled at us and held the door open again. Heather wore the Kinks jersey I’d bought and I was wearing three Kinks buttons I’d bought at the show. There was no sign of the band in the lobby so Heather said they’d probably be delivered to the hotel garage. We found some stairs and raced down to the garage, hung about for about five minutes, before deciding that perhaps they wouldn’t be dropped off in the garage. We raced back up the stairs to the lobby, but there was still no sign of the band.

We decided to head back up to the thirty-fourth floor to check out the suite we’d heard voices in earlier. We dashed to the elevators, dashed into the first one, pushed the button for floor thirty-four, rushed out of said elevator and pressed our ears up to the door. Much to our dismay, there wasn’t a sound coming from inside this time. After a short conference, we decided it would be best to wait in the lobby. We hopped back into the elevator and rode it all the way down. I was leaning in the corner of the elevator when the doors opened to the lobby. Kimmy was standing next to me and began grabbing and tugging on me as I began heading for the doors to exit the elevator. I turned to tell her to knock it off without stopping and nearly ran right into the one and only Ray Davies, lead singer for The Kinks!

I recognized him immediately. “Hi,” I said, trying not to seem as surprised or as excited as I really was.

By this time Heather and Kimmy had also exited the elevator. Ray smiled at us and gave a friendly hello, then said he’d be back down in a minute. He then leaned over to look at the buttons I had plastered on my t-shirt, noticed the Kinks one, grinned at me and said, “All right,” before disappearing into the elevator.

Our excitement reaching hyper drive, we walked into the lobby and each sat on a separate piece of furniture. Other band members started filtering in and we said hello to them, adding that we thought they put on a great show that night. Bassist, Jim Rodford walked in drinking a Heineken and Heather jokingly asked if she could have a sip of his beer.

He came over to her, handed her the bottle, and said she could finish it. He obviously didn’t realize that drinking age was twenty-one and/or that Heather was only sixteen. It didn’t matter. No one else took notice. We chatted with him awhile before he went up to his room.

When drummer Mick Avory came through, we yelled greetings to him. Immediately noticing he had an audience, he began staggering to the elevators.

Heather yelled, “Need any help?”

The elevator doors opened and he staggered in, collapsing against a wall.

“Kimmy can take one arm,” Heather continued, “and I can take the other!”

We could see Mick laughing as the elevator slid closed.

Then, gorgeous Dave Davies, younger brother of Ray and lead guitarist for The Kinks came in. We gaped in utter horror as he was followed by his wife and infant son. He’d been married all that time. We managed to find our voices and bellowed out a “hello” and “Great show!” as our eyes followed in disbelief.

As we waited for the promised return of Ray, we chatted with a man claiming to be Ray’s bodyguard. I whipped out my yo-yo and began playing with it when Ray returned. He immediately walked over to us and mentioned my yo-yo and his new song. I lied and said I’d brought my yo-yo because of the song. I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t bought the record yet. Ray then asked if they still made, as he put it, luminescent yo-yos. I explained that mine used to glow in the dark, but I’d had it several years and it had lost most its glow.

“May I try it?” he asked.

I handed it to him and he immediately started yo-yoing the wrong way.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I said. “It’s all in the wrist action. I’ll show you.”

Ray took the yo-yo off his finger and accidentally dropped it. It rolled across the plush carpet before I quickly picked it up and started giving him a tutorial on how to correctly use a yo-yo. “See, it’s all in the wrist action,” I said and did a perfect Around the World trick.

Ray looked most impressed and said he’d sign me up for the next tour. He started walking away as Kimmy yelled something about being my manager and she’d have to tag along on the next tour.

“Could we get some autographs?” I suddenly remembered to ask.

“Sure,” Ray answered and came back over.

At this point I realized I didn’t have anything suitable for him to autograph. Kimmy came prepared and whipped out a glossy eight by ten photograph. While he signed her picture, it gave me time to think — fast. What did I have on me? I had a MAD Magazine. No, that wouldn’t do. Then I remembered I had clipped the article from that day’s paper advertising the show. It had included a good-sized and very cute picture of Ray. I hauled it out and handed it to him. The first thing he did was draw a mustache on his picture.

“Hey,” I yelled, though I was laughing about it.

Heather had him sign her now empty beer bottle as she’d polished off Jim’s remaining beer.

I asked Ray about an alleged party I’d overheard someone talking about. Ray said there was a party starting in the bar and ending up in someone’s room, but offered no other specifics. He then said goodbye to us and left the hotel with some non-band members.

Jim Rodford came back down and was talking with some young couple. We approached him for autographs and Heather pointed out that she’d finished the beer as he’d requested. Jim gave her a special smile and signed her bottle. We followed him into the bar and sat at the table next to his. The waitress came over and asked us all for identification. I scrounged through my pockets and produced my state ID card. Heather and Kimmy had to leave as neither of them was twenty-one. I told them I wanted to stick around and see if anything developed. They said they’d wait just outside. Nothing was happening in five minutes so I grew impatient and left. Kimmy, Heather and I debated what to do next when Kimmy remembered overhearing that someone in the Kinks entourage mentioned room 2257. “Maybe that’s where the party is.”

We hopped on another elevator and when the doors opened to the twenty-second floor, a man and woman walked in.

“Hey, girls, looking for the party?” the man said to us.

“We sure are,” we replied simultaneously.

“Follow us, then. It’s at the top of the old Hilton.”

We followed him to the top of the old Hilton about a block or two from the new one. We were carded again when we arrived at the bar. Kimmy and Heather again had to leave, but as they headed for the exit, the waitress carding us reached for Heather’s beer bottle.

“You can’t take that with you,” she exclaimed.

We started yelling all at once. “You can’t take it, it’s autographed!”

“Well hide it somewhere, then,” the waitress said. “You’ll get in trouble if you’re seen with it.” Heather obliged by dropping into the bag Kimmy was carrying.

It didn’t take me long to discover by talking with the couple I was with that they had no connection to The Kinks and didn’t even know who the Kinks were. I was at the wrong party! And to think we almost lost the now coveted beer bottle. We’d wasted a lot of time now and needed to get back to our quest — to find the Kinks’ party.

I joined Kimmy and Heather and we ventured back to the new Hilton lobby. We decided to try room 2257 again and this time met two girls in the elevator who were after the band also. We exchanged stories and they told us that Mick was registered under his real name and had mentioned something about the number twenty-one. We took that as meaning he was staying on the twenty-first floor. We landed on the twenty-first floor and one of the elevator girls knocked on what they believed was Mick’s room. There was no answer so Kimmy mentioned room 2257. Back into the elevator again, we went to that room. No answer there either. Into the elevator once again, we went to the lobby where one of the elevator girls called the front desk from a house phone. She asked for one of the band members but he wasn’t listed so she asked for Mick Avory’s room. The room was rung but there was no answer. The other girl suggested going to the bar to have a look. We took the stairs to the mezzanine level and Heather and Kimmy, not wanting to look conspicuous, and having been thrown out of two bars already, waited in the adjacent restaurant while the rest of us went to the bar. We took a detailed look but could only find Jim and having already talked with him, we didn’t want to bother him again. We really wanted Ray and Dave. We paraded back into the restaurant to inform Kimmy and Heather. Suddenly Jim came out followed by some other people and someone shouted something about starting the party early as they headed for the elevators. The two elevator girls dashed over to them.

“I stared at Kimmy and Heather who didn’t move. “Well, come on, let’s follow them!”

“We can’t,” Kimmy said. I then noticed Heather downing a chocolate moose and Kimmy’s full cup of coffee.

“You go and we’ll catch up with you,” Kimmy said.

I did and ended up on the twenty-first floor. Jim knocked on one of the doors, but mumbled something about not being sure it was the right room. There was no answer so he knocked again. A dark-haired, middle thirtyish man came down the hall.

“Which room is it?” Jim asked him.

The man, whom we later learned was the road manager and named Keith, pointed to a room across the hall.

Jim said something about hoping no one was in the other room.

Suddenly Kimmy and Heather showed up.

I brightened. “You made it!”

The door was opened by the purple-haired, condescending girl we’d encountered earlier.

Kimmy and I along with the two elevator girls sat on one of the two double beds. Heather sat across from us before going across the room and helping herself to a Coke and some booze, which she poured into her Coke. Noticing her, I got up and helped myself to a Dr. Pepper. I’d been guzzling Sudafed all day for allergies and didn’t want to risk adding alcohol to the mix.

Heather came over to sit next to me. I was glad for the Dr. Pepper for I’d screamed myself hoarse at the concert and my throat was killing me.

Purple Hair came over to pop a tape into the mini AM/FM cassette player sitting on a nightstand between the two beds. She talked with us for a spell, before saying, “Oh you’re the girls I was talking to earlier. Didn’t I tell you that if you weren’t pushy and just give them some room that things would work out for you? Take it from me, I’ve been around a long time.”

“What is your relationship to the band?” I asked.

She seemed reluctant to answer so I continued. “Are you a friend of the band’s?”

She nodded. I wondered whose groupie she was.

Heather asked her who did her hair and she replied that she did it herself in her own bathroom. Personally I wondered why anyone wanted purple hair, but to each their own. Someone asked whose room we were in and Purple Hair stated it was her room. She then went over to the window to join Keith and Pierced Nose.

We couldn’t help noticing a little red-haired girl who was all over Jim. They spent time talking when she finally asked if this was his room. He said, “no,” so the little red-head suggested they go to his room. They walked out arm in arm.

Kimmy nudged me and whispered, “Well there goes his catch for the night.”

I gave her a knowing grin and stifled a snicker.

Ian Gibbons, the keyboardist, came in and we got his autograph. He looked almost elfin, but cute, with his short blond hair and short stature. I asked him if Ray or Dave would be coming in at all and he said Ray had been in and out of the bar all night and had just gone to his room and Dave went a long time ago.

We didn’t stay too much longer after that. As we got up and left, Keith, after saying nothing to us all evening, said, “Goodbye, girls.”

Out in the hallway, we ran into Bodyguard. We begged him to tell us where Ray’s room was. He gave us a come-on look so we followed him to the elevator. Kimmy said we’d get off on the twenty-second floor because she was almost sure that Ray’s room was 2257. Bodyguard pressed the button for the twenty-second floor. Was he really taking us to Ray’s room?

We asked him if he had his own room. He did.

When the elevator stopped, Bodyguard held the doors open for us and said, “Goodnight, girls. You’re on the wrong floor!”

The elevators doors closed too fast for us to stop them.

“Quick, the stairs!” I shouted.

We headed up the fire escape and Kimmy fell, gashing her knee on the concrete stairs. No time for pain, she cussed herself out for being a klutz as we continued up to the twenty-fourth floor. No sign of Ray, so we again took to the stairs and tried floor twenty-five. Still nothing. We’d lost time due to Kimmy falling so decided to take the elevator the rest of the way. When we punched the button, Heather pointed out the glass Bodyguard had been drinking from while in the elevator with us, was not sitting in the ashtray. We again hopped into an elevator, stopping at every floor to scan the halls. We rode to the thirty-fourth floor, but again, there was no sign of them so on the way down I asked Kimmy if she wanted to call it a night.

“Not on your life!” she responded. “I don’t give up that easily.”

We landed on the mezzanine again and Kimmy sent me into the bar to have a look.. I went in, but it was nearly two a.m. and the bar was closing and I didn’t see anyone inside.

I ventured back out when suddenly Kimmy shouted, “There’s Mick!”

We dashed over and had him sign autographs for us. I asked him if he knew what time they were leaving in the morning. He said he wasn’t sure, but thought around ten. Ian came down and we followed him out to the front of the hotel so we could catch a taxi home as no buses ran at this hour. Ian was talking with some people so I pulled out my yo-yo once again and began playing. Ian noticed me, laughed and started to recite the chorus to the song Yo-Yo. I took the opportunity to ask him if he knew when they were leaving for Vancouver in the morning. He also said he wasn’t sure, but suspected real early. “About half past nine,” he said.

Kimmy, Heather and I decided we’d get up really early the next morning to return to the hotel and see them off. A cab showed, we hopped in and if we thought our fun had ended, we were sorely mistaken. We stopped at a red light and the taxi driver pulled out a trumpet and started blowing a tune out his open window.

Intrigued, Kimmy asked if he played Taps. He hesitated a moment, then played the requested song. We shared a hearty guffaw after witnessing the looks on the couple in the car next to us. When we told the driver we’d just met The Kinks, his response was, “Who the hell are the Kinks?” We shared another laugh.

The taxi dropped us back at the ornate brick building that held my puny studio apartment. We entered the plush carpeted lobby, hit the button for the fifth floor and staggered in, still reveling over the day’s events. I set the alarm for six. It wouldn’t give us much sleep, but who needed sleep when you were going to meet the Kinks for the second time?

We didn’t need the alarm. Kimmy claimed not to have slept at all. I had slept on and off. Heather slept like a rock. While my sister and friend were taking turns with the bathroom, I had a sudden revelation. I could get a yo-yo for Ray. What a great idea! Now to find someone that sold yo-yos and was open early. The only place I could think of was Seven-Eleven. I quickly looked up the number and called. I was crushed to learn that they didn’t sell yo-yos. They couldn’t even tell me who might be open at that hour that sold yo-yos. Sadly, I figured it was a good idea but wouldn’t come to fruition. We caught an 8:15 bus and were at the hotel by 8:30. We waited in the lobby an hour before Bodyguard came out of an elevator.

“Hey!” we yelled one at a time.

He gave us a look of shock and dread, thinking he’d been rid of us after his clever escape hours earlier.

“Hey?” he repeated. “Hey is for horses.”

We started chatting with him and I again took out my yo-yo. Bodyguard asked if he could try it. Much to my surprise, he knew how to use a yo-yo. I asked him if he could do any tricks, but he said he didn’t. I then asked him when the band would be down and he said in about an hour.

Oh, joy of joys. That would give me ample time to track down a yo-yo for Ray. I remembered the toy store on Fifth Avenue only a few blocks away, but I couldn’t remember the store’s name. I went over to a lobby payphone and looked up Toys in the Yellow Pages. There it was — Toys Galore! I dug fifteen cents from deep within the pocket of my jeans and dropped it into the phone slot to make sure they were open and also sold yo-yos. Both answers were affirmative. Exponential joy of joys! I wasted no time in dashing over there while Heather and Kimmy waited in the lobby. I arrived at the store within a couple minutes. It was a small store crammed with all sorts of toys. It didn’t take me long to discover where the yo-yos were. I scanned the various yo-yos lined up on hooks against the wall, but couldn’t find any that glowed in the dark, or as Ray had so eloquently put it — luminescent ones. The butterfly yo-yos were nice, but those were for more advanced users. Ray didn’t know his way around a yo-yo so I’d best get a regular Imperial one. The purple one was pretty and Purple was my favorite color. No, the white one would be best. . I grabbed it along with a package of yo-yo strings for the other yo-yos in my collection and went to pay for the loot. I ran the four blocks back to the hotel. As I approached, I saw several limousines and vans waiting just outside the front doors.

I rushed into the lobby and showed Heather and Kimmy what I’d bought for Ray. Kimmy reminded me to tear off the price tag. I was grateful she had. I immediately parked on a nearby chair and began pealing off all remnants of the price tag.

It wasn’t long before band members started filtering down. Ian approached the front desk, looked over at us and lowered his shades to wink at us. Jim came down and ignored us all together, which disappointed Heather because she had written him a note thanking him for the beer. She didn’t have the courage to walk over to hand him the note.

Soon after, Ray came down. I approached him while Kimmy and Heather stayed seated. I handed him the yo-yo and stated, “Now you have a prop to use on stage when you sing the song.”

Ray smiled and promised he’d practice religiously every day. He then added, “You don’t drink, do you?”

“Sometimes I do, ” was all I could think of saying.

“Well, here, then. You can have this.” He handed me a bottle of red wine.

While I was busy staring at him and thanking him, he wrapped an arm around me and kissed me in thanks for the yo-yo. I wanted to melt on the spot.

My swooning was interrupted by Kimmy’s protests. “Hey, she said.

Ray went over to her and aimed to kiss her on the cheek, but she moved her head so he had no choice but to smack her on the lips. Ray then asked Heather if he could get a hug from her too. Without hesitation, Heather reached up, put her arms around him and got a kiss.

As Ray left, Kimmy said, “We expect you to be a real pro with that yo-yo next time we see you.”

Ray laughed, saying he was going to be the next world champion and left.

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open and out walked Dave, wife and baby in tow. I was the first to approach him as his wife, holding the baby and dragging a stroller, kept going.

“We didn’t get your autograph yesterday,” I explained.

Heather and Kimmy had now joined me and Dave’s face lit up. Heather, having forgotten her beer bottle back at my apartment, had Dave sign the coupon on the back of the KISW sticker.

“Is this one of the tickets from the concert?” Dave asked in a quiet, British accent that made me want to melt all over again.

We explained how it was just a sticker given out at the show by a local radio station.

“Oh,” he said and handed it back to Heather. ” See you later, then.”

I loved how the Brits say then at the end of many of their sentences.

As we watched Dave leave, I looked at my bottle of wine and said, “I should have gotten Ray to autograph this!”

“Well, come on. I think he’s still out there!” Kimmy said without hesitation.

The three of us rushed outside just in time to see the limousines pulling away. We waved, but no one saw us.

It was at that moment the reality of the whole experience hit us all at once. We grabbed each other, laughing and screaming, “We did it! We did it!”

The poor bellboys who had just finished loading all the Kinks’ luggage were clustered together chatting. They stopped in mid conversation and stared at us.

“Don’t mind us,” Kimmy said. “We suffer from a rare disease.”

With that, we ran down to Third Avenue to catch the next bus back to my apartment. We did it indeed!

– Holly Homan

[All photos property of Holly Homan, all rights reserved. Click twice on a photo to view it, full-sized.]