I can still remember in vivid detail the first time I saw him. Adorned in a lavish green and gold, waited on hand and foot by young girls like myself that would obey his every command if it meant that they were noticed.
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𝙒𝙚 𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨
𝟙𝟡𝟟𝟘
It was an unforgiving November night, the outside world frozen with temperatures reaching below zero; inside we all dripped with sweat, a mix of alcohol and the over-capacitatedbuilding bringing a flush to our skin.
"He's a strutter aint he?" My friend gushed from beside me. She first saw them live back in 69', the sight of them all sending her into a fan-girl daze ever since. I used to tease her for it but witnessing the magic Zeppelin was with my own eyes shut me up quickly. So much has changed in that year, they were no longer the small British band you saw by chance but rather the four piece every home and radio station was talking about.
"God, tell me about it." Media wide frenzy hadn't been this big since the Beatles.
Tuning out her rambling my eyes locked on the lead singer for the thousandth time that night. I remember the day my father brought home a colored TV in 1965 and just how mesmerized thirteen year old me was watching Elvis thrust his hips about in bright reds and yellows - that couldn't even compete with how starstruck I was in this moment. Something in me told me that if I didn't get a chance to meet this man personally my night would be ruined.
A tap on my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts, looking back up towards the stage the man of my dreams was no where to be found. "Hmm?" My attention fell back on my friend beside me.
"I said I think we can catch them before they head out if we leave now."
Grabbing my coat I followed her lead, slipping through the herds of people towards the exit. Immediately we were hit with a rush of cold air, the wintry breeze rubbing my skin raw. "Christ," I cursed, hurrying to wrap my coat around my arms. "Remind me again what exactly standing out here is supposed to do."
Before I could get my answer a black car pulled over onto the side of the street beckoning the four men out of the club with a honk of its horn. I felt my stomach drop at the sight of them, my chances of meeting them slipping right through my fingers.
"Darcy was it?" The sound of my friend's name startled me, that surely couldn't be them speaking to us.
"Bonze! How are you?" She greeted, throwing her arms around his neck as he took her into his embrace.
The interaction threw me off guard. Suddenly I forgot about the freezing numbness working it's way up my body, much more concerned on how my friend knew the biggest band in America and never thought to tell me. I leant against the wall and watched as the rest of the men piled into the car, the drummer and Darcy still chatting on the sidewalk.
