When he was 3 years old, I was pushing Beez in the grocery cart at QVC and as we passed the magazine section, he pointed his chubby little fingers at one of the fan mags where five boys in sunglasses with long curly locks, wearing identical sleeveless denim vests, posed under the Hollywood sign. Beez proudly announced, “Dat-th’s Twithded Thithter!” I remember being both amazed and impressed that my pristine baby boy could identify a metal hair band on sight.
23 years later, well on his own, with his own well developed eclectic musical tastes that both mesh and collide with mine, he gave me another amazed and impressed moment today.
As a popular waiter at one of the uber-cool hotel-restaurants in town, he got a call to deliver a lunch order of fried tomatoes and scrambled eggs to a Mr. Black in one of the executive suites. The manager told Beez that Mr. Black was the code name for Ozzy Osbourne, who was staying there before his concert tonight at the Fargodome. Beez brought the food to the door and knocked. He waited. And then he knocked some more. Inside the room he heard Ozzy and his manager commenting on some TV show they were watching. He knocked yet again. Finally the manager answered the door and invited Beez in. There was Oz, chillin’ on the couch. The manager went for his wallet and Beez took this opportunity to introduce himself to The Prince of Darkness by saying “Hey.” The infamous Prince of Darkness responded by saying, “Hey.” The manager returned with the money and tip and thanked Beez. Beez left.
Beez called me once his shift was over and told me about it. I have to tell you, I was pretty impressed! My son served lunch to the Prince of Darkness! I asked Beez if I could pose as a housekeeper and pick up Oz’s dirty dishes.
“He’s pretty much just an old guy mom. Don’t get all Fan-stalker on me.”
“Yeah, well, I’d have rather met Ozzy’s wife Sharon anyway.”
“Now SHE’s a Twisted Sister!”