So this one time, on an airplane, I met Morris Day

(Unfortunately the only photo evidence I have of this encounter died with the harddrive it was on years ago, as it was pre-smartphone technology.) 

It is 9:30 in the morning and I’m on an Alaska Air flight from San Diego to Seattle with my aunt. Shortly after we take off, I notice that one of the flight attendants is bringing First Class goods back into the regular cabin. (My aunt and I are sitting in the third row back.) After the third total giggle fit, I look up and notice her smiling and flirting with a group of gentlemen—one of which looks insanely familiar. The flight attendant asks if they need drinks, and I hear the familiar-looking guy say, “Do you have any Courvoisier, sweetheart?” (I SWEAR TO YOU I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP). And that’s when I realize it. Holycrap. Is that? I think it is. THAT! Is! Morris! Day!

I turn to my aunt to whisper this exciting news, but of course, she doesn’t know who the hell I’m talking about it. Trying to keep it cool, so under my breath I’m like, “Morris Day! And the Time! You know, The Time? Jungle Love? The Oak Tree?? THE BIRD???  The motherfucking TIME. How do you not know this?”

Anyway. I sneak a few more stares at Morris, just to confirm. Yup. That handsome dude draped in a luxuriously awesome suit has got to be him! After a few cursory glances, I ascertain that Jerome is unfortunately, not on the plane. Damn. I was really hoping he’d pull the mirror trick, you know, ON the plane. But the rest of The Time is. So I lean over and say, “Um…hi. Are you…Morris Day?” and try not to pass out.

 “I sure am, darlin’. What can I do for you?”

I run through the possibilities in my brain. Can I ask him to sing for me? No way. Shitshitshit. What the hell do I say to Morris Day? I’m on the spot and I have no idea what to say back to him. So I just blurt out:

 “OMFGYOUARESOAWESOMEand I have loved you since I was a teenager and it made me reallyreallyreally happy to see you at the end of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and I am freaking out a little, I’m sorry.”

But goddamn if Morris wasn’t one of the nicest celebrities I’ve ever met. So, he’s thanking me and we’re talking, and his guitar player (at the time), Tori, leans over and starts talking to me too. And then, just when my little fangirl heart couldn’t take anymore, Morris says, (pointing to the quiet guy next to him):

“Oh, and you know Jellybean, right?” And then my brain exploded. Because I was shaking hands with fucking Jellybean Johnson.

The rest of the flight was a whirl of activity: the flirty flight attendant who was fawning over them kept coming out to bring them things, and apologize for First Class being full, Morris talking to me about how rad Kevin Smith is for re-introducing The Time to a brand new generation, and Tori offering to buy me drinks and, eventually, asking me for a kiss.

Wait. What.

This is the part where my story starts to sound even more made up than it already does, because Tori (after offering to buy me a drink) decided that I was attractive and should join him backstage later at some Jazz Festival they were playing on the Pier.

And so, in exchange for a backstage pass, Tori wanted a kiss. Cliché, much? I wasn’t into it at all, so I said,

“No way … but I’ll kiss Morris.”

A moment of silence, and then Morris and Jellybean erupted into laughter, along with the rest of the band.

“DAMMMMMN, Tori. She really doesn’t like you!” Morris exclaimed, and then leaned over to kiss me on the cheek and squeeze my hand. And then I don’t remember anything else, because I floated the rest of the way home.

{Most people would probably be more excited about Prince, but fuck that. I am now, and have always been, a devoted Time fan. Now excuse me …  I gotta get off this computer and break out some vintage Oak Tree dance moves…}


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