Not my story. Neither do I know the itinerant narrator.
Forty years ago I had just returned to London from India and Nepal. I was broke, dirty and jonsing pretty badly. One night in hopes of gaining access to a drug store I was on the roof of the building above it. In truth, I wasn't much of a thief and my rooftop escapade was a sort of adventure to keep me from jumping out of my skin. As I passed a skylight I suspected someone saw me but chalked it up to paranoia and searched on.

When I saw a black Jaguar (police cruiser) snake into the courtyard my glands overdosed me with adrenaline. I had been fairly athletic before drugs but it surprised me that I was able to fly down the fire escape and scale the huge barbed wire gate with energy (but little time) to spare. The Jag was on my heels as I made the jump onto the fence. I ran like a demon for as long as I figured it'd take for other cops to respond to their radio call and then slowed to what I thought was a casual walk.

By then I was feeling pretty sick and I ducked into the Chelsea Drugstore. This was a very fashionable shopping mall which included a few pubs and I slipped into line with the crowd that was waiting for admission.

I was sweaty and unkempt and imagined that I stood out, so, in hopes to blend in with the crowd I started a conversation with the guy closest to me. He was eating life savers and was very friendly.
He was noticing a much overdressed couple and I used one of my conversation openers: "Real Circus around her isn't it," I pulled that line out of a Donavan song that ended with 'there's only one catch to the fun, to hell if you're willing, your names on the billing and it seems you're wanted in ring number one.'
He looked at me with a curious smile. "Oh yea, I know what you mean, costumes and all."

I went on, "Great performances but the billing probably includes both of us" I said hoping for some irony or humor. He sifted through his life savers and popped one in his mouth, looked up and gave me a big smile, "I know a bit about performances."

OK, I should have recognized him immediately or at least by then, but it was a little beyond belief and I was in a bit of a situation. When he looked back to his life savers I asked him if he saved his favorite flavor for last. "Nope" mischievous smile again, "I always eat the red ones first," and he displayed it as he popped it in his mouth.

By then he was in full control of the conversation; I was 20 and he was older and had the attitude of a man who is very much in charge of his life and being the center of things. I was a scruffy little junky. He asked what an American like me was doing in London. I told him I had just been on an overland journey including Vienna and Istanbul along with Bombay, Delhi and Katmandu. He said he didn't know a thing about Istanbul and that the only thing he knew about Vienna was the Choir boys and, finding another red one he flashed his grin.

By then we were involved in a very fluent conversation. He was very easy to talk to despite his status as a star. He even listened to a few of my stories about the east. At one point when I implied that I was trying to get something that night that I couldn't seem to locate he knew exactly what I was talking about. "You can't always get what you want but..." Which sounded like sage advice to me. He was really very charming and extremely clever, not to say an entertaining conversationalist.

I am terrible at face recognition and usually only thinking of the next thing I could add to the conversation. But by then his identity was penetrating my thick scull. I introduced myself as Jim and asked him his name. He said Mick, of course, and we had a bit of small talk about a dealer I knew that was named Mick before he asked me my surname.

Now, where I am from they call it your last name and I didn't really know what a surname was. I remembered that when you called someone 'sir' you usually used his first name. So I said James... thinking he wanted to know my proper first name. "No, no, I mean your family name," he clarified. I figured he meant the nickname that my family called me and I said, "Jimmy" This cracked him up; I suppose by then he thought me a complete idiot. He said "so you're Mr. Jimmy, huh, that's great... Mr. Jimmy" laughing loudly.

I figured it out. Normally I am not so terribly obtuse but, understand, I was not well at all. I told him my last name, he said, "O God, forget it, I'll never remember that, I can barely pronounce it. Mr. Jimmy is fine."

Just then a man came out and very politely tapped on his shoulder. Before he was lead through the long line into the club he turned to invite me to join him. By then I was getting really ill; I thanked him and left.

It had been a while and I knew I would be safe.
I was very stoned on acid the first time I heard the song and made a big thing about it. No one believed me and a close friend said that even if the story was true I should just forget it, telling it would just make me look foolish. I didn't tell anyone else for 25 years at which time I told a few good friends I was drinking with. They laughed and turned the conversation elsewhere. I didn't bother to insist on the veracity of the story and was happy to just let it go. The only person who can verify the story is Mick.
( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Wed 8 Jul 2009, 11:16, 6 replies)

Thanks for the line breaks :D
I'll give it a read now
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Wed 8 Jul 2009, 11:51, closed)

Same here...
I avoided it earlier
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Wed 8 Jul 2009, 12:39, closed)

Hmmm....
I shouldn't have bothered...
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Wed 8 Jul 2009, 12:44, closed)

.
Wow, Mick Hucknall.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Wed 8 Jul 2009, 12:18, closed)

You owe me a new keyboard for your Mick Hucknall tramp tale
after I sprayed coffee all over mine
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Wed 8 Jul 2009, 14:02, closed)

Whhhooooooooooooooooooooosssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
...ish

Mama says yes, Papa says no
(Biff..., Wed 8 Jul 2009, 12:52, closed)