It began on a cold spring day in San Francisco, CA at a place called Johnny Foley's on O'Farrell Street. Peter and I arrived around 4 p.m. and fronted the wait in line. The weather was unkindly chilly. While waiting, we saw John leave the building and walk down the street, arrive as a passenger in a black Mercedes, and then leave again. After the doors opened we walked straight for the front of the stage. The view was unreal. We were leaning against the stage. John's stool, table and stand were so close it was almost embarrassing. To think that he would soon be there, resting his foot on the speaker that I held. But there is a sad part of the story. Thinking that I would never be able to smuggle in my nice camera, I hid a cheap point-and-shoot in my purse. I loaded it with some black and white and figured I was set. Naturally, we get there and people are pulling out enormous cameras all around. I took 16 live shots of John and none of them came out. I took them without flash thinking that the stage lighting was bright enough, especially at my proximity. Cheap cameras don't take pictures like that. I learned this the hard way.