With me in the waiting roomin the back of the auditorium was bassist George Johnson. George was ashort, skinny kid, and had been my friend since the s...xth grade. Althoughhis looks were on the slightly gangly side, he attracted girls like anestrogen magnet. "So how are we going to stand, exactly?" he asked me five minutes beforegoing on. "What do you mean?" I said. "Nevermind," he muttered.We had been discussing the manner of our performance for the past twoweeks, nervous as hell for the. Some of our guards were nearby, so I couldn't say much; but "Grrr!" proved to be sufficient. Donna was still looking ashamed when the media arrived.I'd been hoping that some of the reporters would come running at me, so the Guardian could appear and deal with them in a memorable way, but our guards had the reporters under too much control. That alone should tell you how good our guards are.We're experienced enough in doing these interviews that we hadn't bothered to plan out its details. Mom. More

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