Everyone in this story is aged 18 or over. Names have been changed, however.
This happened in 2002.
I'm a bass player. I was buying strings at a local music store and chatting with the guys about the local music scene and where we'd played recently. I hadn't played out in over two years. An acquaintance named Eric came in the store. We chatted for a while. Eric said his younger brother, who sang and played a little guitar and piano, was forming a U2 cover band and they needed someone to play bass.
"Interested?" he asked.
"Yeah!" I replied enthusiastically. "I love U2!"
"Well, let me make a call," said Eric. After about seven or eight minutes, he returned.
"They're having a practice tomorrow at three. My brother's name is Denny. He's been playing bass, but he hates it. He just wants to sing and occasionally play guitar," said Eric. He asked the clerk for a piece of paper and scrawled Denny's address on it. "I'll let him know you're coming."
I thanked him. The next day, I showed up with my trusty Fender and after several not bad renditions of some U2 songs, they invited me in the band.
At 36, I was easily the oldest member of the band, which we ultimately called Surrender. After a month of practices, we got tight and we'd compiled a two-hour setlist of U2's big hits, some live favorites, and a few songs they rarely, if ever, played live.
The drummer, Paul, who was also the business manager, booked our first gig: a private party for a group of university students. We charged $300 and $5 for admission. Okay, the gigs probably weren't going to make me a millionaire, but I enjoyed playing.
Halfway during the first show, I noticed a little blonde girl who had moved to near the front of the stage. She was probably around five feet tall. She was not the dainty waifs many girls her size were, but she was not chunky like she needed to drop some weight. She had an pretty face, long straight hair, big brown eyes, wide hips and wide shoulders, and perfectly proportioned breasts.
Very cute girl
, I thought. I kept glancing her way and she smiled a few times at me.
Following the show, we showered in the nearby men's locker room to wash off the sweat of two hours of playing under hot lights in a room with so-so ventilation. Afterward, we mingled with the audience. I'm not exactly comfortable in such situations, but I tried to be polite, answer peoples' questions and accept praise with grace.
The little blonde walked up and introduced herself as Natalie. "My friends call me Nat," she said, extending her tiny hand.
"George," I said, shaking it. "A pleasure."
"Wow! You guys are sooo good!" she gushed.
"Thank you."
"How long have you been together?" she asked. "I've never heard of you guys before."
"Oh, a little over a month I guess," I said. "This was actually our first gig."
"No way!" she said.
"Yeah," I insisted.
"You guys sound like you've been together for years."
"Well, you get a group of good musicians together and work hard and play for the music, and good things just tend to happen," I said.
"Oh," Nat replied. "Well, I just wanted to say you guys are really good. The band we had last year sucked. And they even had a record deal!"
"Say, Nat," I said, feeling bold. "Want to grab a bite to eat? I'm starving. My treat. Unless you're with someone."