The first time I met Keith Richards was at the Charlie Watts Big Band show at The Ritz in NYC December of 1986. I went to see Charlie and watch him play but mostly to see if I could get a glimpse of Keith. The show was good, and even though it was freezing out I dressed up in my best Keith Richards costume, scarf tied around my waist like a sash and blue jean jacket with the Coke logo painted on the front to mimic his jacket from ’72. On the back I had painted a portrait of him as my way of fitting in to the 1980’s graffiti culture and express my expanding desire to be an artist.

I overheard someone say that Keith was upstairs on the balcony and I raced up, jumping two and three steps at a time. The balcony at The Ritz was more subdued than the main floor and a little darker and more sketchy than the lively party below. As soon as I hit the top of the stairs I could see a roped off section with two massive body guards blocking any intrusion. I marched right up to them and said I’d like an autograph please and I got back a fat hand in my face and a “ HE DOESN’T WANT TO BE BOTHERED.” I was trying feverishly to get a glimpse, bobbing, weaving, going around and around till finally I could see the face of Rock N Roll, the Human Guitar riff, the most elegantly wasted man on the planet, the person that my high school guidance counselor had said I thought of (adopted) as my father, the voice that sang harmony behind Mick Jagger, that every time I heard it, lifted me over the walls of my shitty life straight up to heaven. It was him!

I stopped for a moment and just imagined myself sitting at that bottle and cigarette-butt filled table smiling and nodding like I knew every little inside joke and cool thing he did. Kind of creepy I guess but I wanted to be at that party so bad. As I scanned the table to take it all in I realized that Patti his wife was staring right at me. It was kind of amazing. Like she knew how important this moment was for me and that she caught me realizing (again) that the world was much bigger and more interesting than I had previously imagined. I held up my pen and my jacket as a signal to ask if she would get me Keith’s autograph. She nodded, then stood up and kind of like an angelic Moses parted these two giant pillars of men like the Red Sea. She waved me forward and I gave them a look that communicated the power that a 17-year old Rolling Stones fan could wield if pushed (step aside tweedle dee and tweedle dumb.) She sat back down and tapped Keith’s shoulder and handed him the jacket and pen. He looked at the jacket and looked at me and said who’s this and slung his head back in laughter as he signed his name. I looked at him and put my hand over my heart and then mouthed the words “thank you” and did the same to Patti. Right on cue I got shoved aside by the two sentinels as if to tell me, beat it kid, go play in traffic. I remember riding the train home that night, I was drunk and would usually ride between the cars in case I had to vomit but this night I rode between the cars to feel the air that somehow lifted me higher and closer to God than ever before.