My Lindsey Buckingham Story

In the mid 90's with my TV writing career sputtering along, I worked as a bartender at a world class hotel in Beverly Hills. There were two shit shifts, Saturday and Sunday days, and they were mine. One Saturday morning I emerged from the back room holding a rack of glasses to find Lindsey Buckingham sitting at the bar. He ordered a beer and just sat there. He told me he was having work done to his house and that he was staying in the hotel for the weekend. He couldn't have been nicer. He talked about the band and the music; he ate lunch and read the newspaper. About 4:30 the bar started getting busy and he looked like he was feeling uncomfortable, but he stuck it out until the end of my shift. It was just a great day! After he paid the check and tipped me really well, he asked, "You here tomorrow?" And I would be.

After my shift I went to Amoeba Records and bought a copy of Tusk.

The next morning when I opened the bar, there was Lindsey Buckingham. We picked up right where we left off. A few hotel employees came by to say hi. Lunch, the newspaper, he went upstairs to take a nap, before coming back after. When the night bartenders came in I was done. Again another great tip, and I said goodbye. On my way out of the bar I stopped by and handed him the album wrapped in a napkin. I told him I could get fired for doing this, but I'd love if he signed it, and I went in the back office to count my drawer. When I swung back through, he handed the album to me and said, "Of all the Fleetwood Mac albums you could've asked me to sign, this is my favorite. Nice going!" I took the album and left.

A year or two later I was in the Beverly Center with my girlfriend. Lindsey saw me from a distance, and came over to say hello.

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Bimql chhetry.

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