I've always said that our little town has a special place on the road to and from stardom. Either people hit it on the way shooting up, or on their way falling down, down, down. Such is the life of burnt-out musicians traveling the road from Denver to Salt Lake. At least they get to have a few pathetic groupies in Grand Junction.
Last night we glimpsed the sight of a falling star at dinner. We were walking into the Rockslide, our favorite place to debrief after movies featuring dirty old men in them at the Avalon.
We were just laughing at the marquis at the concert spot down the street, which featured Winger. Let me jog your memory with this:
And as we were wondering exactly what Winger was known for, besides the kid named Stewart on Beavis and Butthead wearing a shirt with the band's name on it, one of the Rockslide workers informed us that we could ask a member of the band who was sitting in the back.
Lucky us! We sat two tables away from one of the esteemed members of Winger (who also used to play guitar for White Snake). He was chowing down on dinner and flirting with all the waitresses, inviting them to the show. I guess he knew that he needed to recruit his own groupies in GJ.
My sister contemplated having the Winger dude sign a body part, and she even had her camera with her, but she chickened out. Mike kept saying, "Leave Winger alone!" And so we did.
I think it might have been the guy second from the left in the picture. But I couldn't tell. His Farrah-like hair was pulled back in a greasy ponytail and he was pretty much dressed like the homeless man who was playing the harmonica on the sidewalk when we left the restaurant.
It's the only time I've seen a falling star and I didn't make a wish. By the way, you might recognize Winger from this clip on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzuAKBu366k
