And now for something completely different.

Jamiroquai, a horn player, a drummer and a shit ton of Pistachios.

I lived a LOT of life in my twenties.

A lot.

So much, that by the time I was 30, all I wanted to do was to have a family and settle down in the Jersey suburbs. I had done wild. Checked it off my list. I wanted a quiet life where the most exciting event of the week was a new episode of the Sopranos on HBO.

And I gotta say, of all of the wild things I did in my youth, this one ranks near the top. I didn’t do drugs, I wasn’t reckless in that way - having a brother who had thrown his life away on a crack habit tends to have that kind of an impact - I was just, let’s just say, careless, and some of the choices I made, if they had gone differently, could have been catastrophic.

That said, I have no regrets. It’s part of my story. Part of who I am and in the same way that a scar can give you character, a story of youthful recklessness can too. At least, some of the time. Like this one.

It was 1996. I was in my first year at Emerson, and visiting my boyfriend who tended bar at a hotel in the theatre district in NYC. I’d always hang out there when I was in town, he worked all the time, and it was one of the few ways I could spend time with him (and the free jumbo shrimp cocktail and pours of pricey Chardonnay didn’t suck).

I would be there for hours. Striking up conversations with folks from Oklahoma visiting the city for the first time, or the regulars who were there on business for weeks at a time. Every now and then, someone in the music industry, or movie biz would appear, and usually, they’d keep to themselves, off in a corner of the lounge somewhere, but one night, a horn player from the band Jamiroquai - a band that had been blowing up at the time with a song called “Virtual Insanity”, was at the bar, and he was very chatty.

If you don’t remember the band or the song, here it is. I think this was a big album for them in general, but this song, well this song was EVERYWHERE.

It was a quiet night at the bar, so my boyfriend and I talked to this guy for hours. I don’t remember his name, so I’ll be referring to him as “the horn player” for the remainder of the story. I’m sure I could Google it, but honestly, it’s a detail so irrelevant to the story that I don’t see the point.

It just so happened that they had a tour date in Boston coming up. He told me he’d put my name on the VIP list, and that I should bring a friend. “Make sure you stop by to say hi after the show.” He said. “Ok.” I said.

(Honestly, at the time, I literally thought we’d just be saying hi. Boy was I wrong…)