And let me tell you why.
When I was a just a wee little dork at age 9, my best friend Shelly and I were totally and completely in love with The Monkees.
I'm talking borderline obsession. I had every item of paraphernalia money could buy, and my room was literally wallpapered in their posters.
I watched the shows, bought every record they had, and knew all the songs by heart.
For the record I have to place blame on my elementary school for this. If we hadn't been forced to watch the tv shows before school started, I may never have been introduced to their wacky world.
To my parents, Yes this is what my private school tuition paid for. By the way, we also watched the Jetsons.
One day the big news came. The Monkees would be preforming in concert in my hometown. Oh joyous day!! Naturally Shelly and I got tickets and somehow convinced one of our parents (not sure who) to tote us to the concert.
We had a fabulous time, I'm sure. For some reason I cannot remember the actual concert as the events of the next day, must have overshadowed them.
Afterwards, my little brain got to thinking. If the Monkees played at our arena then surely they must be staying at the nearby hotel yes? So the next day, Shelly and I again convinced one of our parents (again can't remember who) to take us to the hotel.
Outfitted in the very height of fashion we were wearing the requisite Davy Jones tee shirts, and carrying one of the many books we had on them for autograph purposes.
As we walked down some hall of the hotel, a worker passed by and commented that "he's out by the pool." By he we assumed he meant Davy, since his face was plastered across our chests.
Sure enough we walk out to the pool and there he is sunbathing. I have to say, my life was absolutely complete at that moment in time. No doubt about it.
As we nervously approached our idol, he looked up from his book. Our eyes met, a slow smile spread across his face and he said....
Hmm. I don't really remember come to think of it, but it was something along the lines of "nice shirts".
Anyway he was very lovely and signed our books and off we went in search of our next conquest.
As it happened it was Peter Tork who we caught at the elevator bank carrying his laundry.
Of course we had camped out on the floor knowing that at some point one of them would come walking by. I mean they had to go to and from their rooms didn't they? By this time we had accumulated a little crowd of groupies, and as Peter came walking along, some brainiac yelled "There's Peter Tork!" Like Duh!
Peter of course looked astonished and shouted "Where?" while looking around for himself.
OH Peter you are such a character! He-He.
Hey, to a nine year old little dork that was extremely funny at the time.
Anyway we got our autographs and off we went on our merry way to find Mickey.
Now, Micky on the other hand, was way more elusive than his pals.
Lucy Ricardo I am not, and even though we actually found out the room he was staying in and knocked on the door to see him, I never managed a way to finagle myself into the room when the housekeeper answered. Perhaps I should have dressed up as a bellboy? That's what Lucy would have done huh? Damn!
Back downstairs we went to the arcade for some reason, and found Mr. Tork playing a game. Now just because he had given me his autograph moments before, this did not mean we were instant friends.
Looking back, perhaps it wasn't the best idea to go charging over to him, like a stampeding elephant, and lean half my body over the video game screen and shout" hi!" in his face.
It wasn't until I saw the flicker of annoyance pass his face, that I realized my mistake. Yes I made him loose the game.
Ah well, live and learn. Sorry Peter!
Since Micky's housekeeper wouldn't let us in the room, the damn b%$#@, I had to resort to more drastic measures.
That's right, word made it's way to my little ears, that he would be appearing at a local radio station. And by local I mean, oh 2 minutes from my house. I know! Way cool.
Naturally I camped out in the parking lot waiting for his arrival. Finally an inconspicuous white van drives up and there he is getting out of the car. I immediately ambushed him, and asked for his autograph. This time he signed my shirt which I still have by the way! I also got a picture of us. Which is something I had failed to do with Peter and Davy. Idiot!
After the show, Micky decided to walk about town. What did I do? Followed him of course. Everywhere. Like a dog on a leash.
He eventually caught on, and did his best to loose me.
Which he did, after awhile, but I'm pretty sure I irritated the crap out of him, with my clingy ways. After all he was with his family, trying to enjoy some peace and quiet I'm sure.
The funny thing is I actually met Micky twice, but for the life of me I can't remember where the second time was.
Sadly the only Monkee I never met was Mike.
Which is a damn shame, since I always thought he was cool. But you know he has this hangup with being associated with the group. Oh well.
Now the unfortunate thing is, is the book that has all their autographs in it, has some somehow gotten lost over the years. I know! I can't believe it!
Perhaps one of you kind readers will come across it someday? Maybe up for auction on ebay? If by some crazy chance you do find it, let me know. It looks exactly like this..
As a reward, I will send you an original Monkee album of your choice!
Anyway, you'll know the book is mine, because Davy Jones poked a hole through the first page while trying to sign his name.