Earlier this week I attended a performance of my good friend Martin Short's Broadway show, "Fame Becomes Me". (And it does, even though the show is closing January 7th. If you are in New York, run to the box office before it's gone!)
As my escort was picking up our tickets at the box office, I noticed a small man waiting behind us, rather scruffy, wearing a blazer that was too tight. With him was a beautiful redhead. Suddenly I realized that this little man was the immortal Bruce Springsteen, The Boss, Whatever Else He Used To Called. And the redhead was his wife, Patty Scialfa. I was a bit puzzled by his clothing--aren't shrunken blazers only worn by very young woman? However, the world of rock fashion is hardly my bailiwick. In person, Bruce looked more like Keith Richard than one would have thought, but my escort was convinced both Patty and Bruce had "work done," as the saying goes.
The sweet part was that they were bringing their teenage children to the show as well. As I passed into the lobby, a young man grabbed my sleeve.
"That's--that's Bruce Springsteen!" he said, in the tone of one beholding the Taj Mahal for the first time.
"I know, " I said, shaking him off. Let other people stare at TheBoss; I am far too sophisticated to indulge in such a pastime. Particularly because we were seated at either end of the orchestra and I had forgotten to bring my opera glasses.
Ciao for now,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog