I read that Mr. Crosby died. He was a nice man. He’d two friends that he hung out with and played music together. Stephen Stills and Graham Nash. One time, they asked me to go see a movie with them. This is my story.

It was in the late 90’s and I was working as a valet at a pricey downtown hotel in Jacksonville, Florida. I’d just gotten off my shift and was clearing up business at the valet stand, I wasn’t in uniform and only a few feet from my car which was running, ready to head out for the evening.

I enjoyed doing this. I’d a big early 1980’s Oldsmobile and liked to blast swing music. When I graduated HS, my family had chipped in so I’d have a new stereo in my car. Even then, I was a automotive purest and optioned to have a 10 disc. CD changer in my trunk. This way I didn’t have to screw up my factory radio and simply spliced in the CD changer to a static FM station…. The car was big, great condition (only had 20k miles on it when I got it from a very old man who’d barely driven it over the past 20 years). The car was a turd. A good looking turd for it’s age.

A tired, overweight, man came up to the stand. Asked about getting available taxi’s…and not having it called in. This was a strange request. I was glad this wasn’t my problem and began wrapping up my EOD business with haste. It was a Sunday evening and there’s nothing happening downtown on a Sunday in most Florida downtown areas. Beaches are crowded though. The odds of hailing a passing cab….was not in our favor. The valet kid was new and started to fumble about doing the wrong things, looking for the wrong Jurrasic Park III with Crosby, Stills & Nash answers to this mans request. I simply asked, “Why”? Then he hurried off, ignoring me, agitated. I was glad this wasn’t guy my problem.

I did a polite ‘done’ with my hands and wished the new kid the best of luck on his, sure to be stimulating, Sunday evening shift. Just as I put my car into gear, I saw the bellhop, Danny come out, making specific eye contact with me. I thought, ‘shit, what did I do now? Was it the fat taxi dude?’

“Hey Frank!” Everyone called me, ‘Frank’ because I wore the wrong name tag everyday. It was the reason I’d a perfect employee record. Anyone whom went to tell on me, would inadvertently be telling on this, “Frank” asshole.

“Hey man, you heading out? Done with your shift?” This conversation wasn’t getting any moore appealing for me. [3] I only stared back at his absurdity in asking. He knowingly laughed. Daniel was in his final year of medical school and worked as a hotel bellhop to keep he and his, also full time student girlfriend, alive. Genetically, he wasn’t the chatty type. He felt it would be wise to work on his people skills and bedside manner by being a bellhop during his time in sk001. When he was first hired, he was painfully shy and had difficulties speaking to strangers and sometimes socializing. He was in his final year of medical school when I knew him. Much more polished by this time.

He knowingly read my expression and smiled, “Ok, yeah, see that guy in there.” Pointing at fat taxi man. “He wants to go to the movie theatre.”
“Ok” I respond, scowling.

“He wants to go see a movie, ‘Jurassic Park III’.” The, “ok” I entered earlier still lingered.Danny, understood. “Well, he…Uh, no, I mean, he has three friends who wanna go see this movie….” He’s almost apologetically saying. This was worse.

“What you mean? This dude doesn’t even want a cab now?” I turned my eye’s forward and began to put the caR N D. Any bellhop, who’s worked at a posh downtown hotel for many years, will be a skilled negotiator and have the ability to ‘elevator pitch’ his case, even if he must walk sideways at the window of a car pulling away, which is exactly what I was doing.
“You can make $50!” he shouted. My foot had found the brake pedal now. $50 on top of $0 for a Sunday shift was a win for me.

I scowled. “Walking sideways and you’re ONLY paying $50 for a private ride anywhere on a Sunday night?” I was negotiating right back. In that moment, I felt sorry for Daniel trying to accommodate this hotel guest. He was only trying to earn a living….All I was doing was partying with my spare income. “Fine, what’s with the weirdness though?”

Daniel was now struggling to catch his breath since I’d a good mind of not stopping until we’d gotten to the end of the block, in which I was now stopped by the light. “He’s their manager and….” I gave a knowing smug, let’s hear this BS smirk, he was hustling me. Also, he was under the impression I’m tracking whomever, “They” are.

I looked again at the manager and now, I didn’t see a fat outta shape man. Now, I saw a fat outta shape man - whom now reminded be of Rick Ruben [Producer for Beastie Boys and Early Days of Hip Hop..Just know he’s a legend]. This guy was no Rick Ruben. Only a ‘Rick Ruben’ type. Desperately in need of a bath and some sleep.

No matter how I made the connection. I secretly feared it was a pop star who’d seen my ride and wanted a ride in it…anywhere. If I’ve learned anything on this planet working with media types, it’s that wherever they say they’re wanting to go…it’s never where they’re wanting to go. “Jurassic Park III? I call horseshit!” Still benefiting from the powerful, ‘ok’ smirk, lingering from before.

At this moment, I suppose it’d been settled by everyone but me. I was taking this, now, party of three big dudes to some cheesy kids movie. I thought I was recognized one of them as a chubby Gallagher. Internally, my answer was still a strong, “No” but in that moment, Mr. Crosby looked in my direction and he smiled. I thought that was friendly. So I said, “Ok”. By this moment I was out of the car shaking hands with Crosby, Stills and Nash. I never told anyone I thought that I though he was Gallagher at first. Actually, never really told anyone about any of this.

The Chubby Manager looked very happy to not be joining the trio in this venture. My cars suspension was as well. He had the look that he was probably going to go upstairs to do something self-destructive to relax. His head hung in exhaustion scuttled towards the elevators to retire. I just realized, Shit, I was now the baby sitter.

After all three gentlemen were seated in my car, setting the stance now, easily, a solid -3 inches lower. Mr. Crosby was seated up front and stated the movie theatre they wanted to go to. I protested immediately. “No way. That theaters not close and it’s crumby.” My $50 was now going to be minus $20 in gas. “I can take you to a great movie theatre….” I began to confidently tell them. “I know exactly where to take you.” Mr. Crosby whom had an early flip phone in his hand already and was now ready to use it. Instead, he put his hand on my shoulder and politely said to me in a fatherly tone. “Yes, I know you that you know. I’ve no doubt that if this place were to fall through, you’d know of several great places….We’re looking for a quiet, empty movie theatre. I..” a voice from the back coughed.

“We were going to see it with family, but as it turns out, I was unable to see the movie with them, so we wanted to at least watch it so we’d something to talk about with our children.” it all clicked then.

My tone changed considerably. This I understood on a human level. I was baby sitting. These three men, remarkable in their careers, not only together but also individually could get reach millions, yet they were slaves to their handlers. They were children whom stopped aging as soon as someone started doing the worrying for them.

At this moment, one of the fellas in the back, Mr. Stills or Mr. Nash, I’m unsure which, says, “Hey you comin with us?” He said this as if he were a teenager asking another teenager their plans on a Friday night. Before I could answer, they all chimed in, “Hey yeah, wanna come, we’ll buy your ticket.” They collectively said.

Seeing I was about 17 years old at the time of this story, I said, “No” like a complete dumbass. For no other reason other than shock over the situation and also, I felt Jurassic Park II sucked.

Also, I’d a secret. Not many folks knew my secret at the time. I felt if they only knew that the house I was living and partying in so often at the time belonged to a band member of Lynyrd Skynyrd. I’d mates whom where actually related to members of this band.

Rock n rollers know the history between, not so much, ‘Crosby, Stills and Nash’. However, ‘Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’. Well, that’s different. Neil Young had stuck his nose into some southern business and there was still hostility 15-20 years later. This is/was all very public and controversial. A controversy which is still remembered in many southern household to this day. Even though I’d never engaged in and of this, ‘Kluckin of Hens’, I was still very aware of the perceptions this could give. Just as any good ‘ol boy’s will do… they’ll come to all the wrong conclusions about exactly why I’d never chimed in on this philosophical argument(s), should I be willing to tell anyone the events of the day.

I was committing high treason in my very intimate circle of friends! Friends I loved like family. We drove further on and the men were all discussing family whatnots, forgotten the last 30 seconds and had begun using cell phones by this point. They made plans on a dime. Before I’d a chance to process what was happening, they were done with the interaction.

I dropped Crosby, Stills and Nash off at the movie theater. Right in front like an asshole. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. Was only 17 and simply didn’t consider their wishes to ‘sneak in’. It was still dusk and they’re easily recognized. Especially since they were here to play a concert this weekend.

Stephen Nash was the final one to get out. He ducked back in the widow, for what I thought was going to be a tip. Instead, “You sure you don’t wanna come in, watch it with us?” I didn’t respond. I was now Ralphie from Christmas Story freezing when Santa asks him what he wanted for Christmas. Only…wasn’t freezing for starstruck reasons. I’d a real moral dilemma I was now wrestling with and wasn’t smart enough to respond.

Being a real life, ‘Ralphie’ was my personal stereotype which had plagued me since I was young. As a boy I’d a striking resemblance to the lead character of the film, ‘Christmas Story’. My daydreaming personality was similar to his as well. My family would tease me about non-exist encounters they’d swore happened in which they said they took me to see Santa and I’d freeze up. As well as any other story they’d see fit to interject me into, to spice up their own uneventful and painfully mundane, ordinary lives.

Truth was, these stories were always untrue. Me seeing Santa was a never. When you’re #7 in a generational family, these writs of passage are often overlooked since they’d been exhausted by the prior 6 already. After a while, I’d just stopped defending myself and continued withdrawing from them…until it finally became forever. Which it remains. I’ve digressed.

So, I’d frozen up just like Ralphie after all. Mr. Nash only shrugged and walked to the ticket booth. I sat there, making sure they got in safely….like an asshole. I went to the gas station to call a friend who was expecting me that evening. I’d not yet a chance to contact the people who were waiting for me to show up…to whatever it was we were going to do that evening and I’d now completely ditched them at this point.

“Yo man, I just gave Crosby, Still and Nash a ride to the movie theatre.” I said proudly. This friend was impartial to the band and subsequently the band memebers I constanly was hanging out with. I could hear his impartiality seething. My friend plainly points out, “Oh yeah? If that’s true, why you on the phone with me?” He continued. “Listen man, we’re just going to head out. You know where it is, yeah? See you when you get there.” I interrupted, “Wait, I’m being serious.” As was he. “I know man. This kind of shit happens to you for some reason.” This was true. It even kinda stung.

“Yeah,” I interrupted again, feeling justified, “They invited me to watch the movie with them…”

My buddy interrupts…”Then why are you on the phone with me?” he says, now angry.

I respond, feeling a little hurt. “I’d plans with you guys tonight and I wanted to talk to you first, let you know I wasn’t ditching you…I knew you were waiting.” I explain truthfully. If only to salvage some dignity, “Was giving you the courtesy of not coming out with you tonight.” This was how I ended the conversation.

I drove back to the movie theatre, buying my own ticket and sitting at the end of the row on the other side of the theatre. Watchin over them like a creep. It was the fifth weekend of the films opening and the movie was still showing in the bigger occupancy theaters. Albeit, no longer commanding the great numbers it did in its opening weekends.

I’d then understood my task considerably moore by this point. I was tasked as their sitter. Their handler at 17 years old i understood how vulnerable these men were, even in a less than crowded movie theatre, crouched and hidden as best they could be, to avoid any and all recognition. They were giggling and throwing popcorn at each other……I barely watched the movie. In fact….I didn’t see it. I wasn’t watching, interpreting, listening to shit going on that movie screen. I was worried about these guys. They were just trying to feel a little bit human on this evening, watching Jurassic Park III with Crosby, Stills and Nash. This was my real life ‘Wayne’s World’ moment of not being ‘worthy’. Even if I was impartial to their music.

After the evening, I told my members of my family. My parents, believed me, but they weren’t aware of anything happening in the world. Too religous to see any outside world we’d lived in. In fact, I had to explain who Lynyrd Skynyrd was in context…I mean, they lived 3 blocks over and I was always over there. This was laborous. It took me so long to tell them the context of the situation no one was interested anymore. My brothers and sisters never acknowledged this, “lie.” I didn’t have a habit of lying so I’d never known why they were so quick to dismiss me. It didn’t take away from it actually happening. I didn’t need to prove it...to anyone. So, I stopped sharing.

I’m sorry I never reached out to Mr. Crosby and his friends to explain. I knew they’d not remember me. However, if I did...if I would have...it would be to let them know I’m no longer that punk kid asshole. It was an important evening to me. I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. I’d wanted to assure them that, ‘See, I’m all grown up now and I’m a completely different, new, kind of asshole.’ I did see the movie with them. Watching out for them. Understanding how vulnerable and lonely it can be at the top.

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