R.I.P. Eric Stratton, Rush Chairman

Well I have never had the platform or the occasion to tell this story, but since Senator Edward Kennedy died while pushing a health care plan for all Americans which is 180 degrees different from the one that extended his life, here goes. No 'red pill' or 'blue pill' for him.

For those of you who doubt the veracity of what follows you may confirm, I'm sure, that the late Senator was where I met him on the night of December 31, 1987, the only thing you will not be able to check on is if I was there... I was.

Aspen, Colorado... Paradise Club, headliner Fleetwood Mac, special guest guitarist Eddie Van Halen... Opening act, The Nitty-Gritty Dirt Band. How did I get into this show? Connections that I have since lost. I had no business being there, but there I was.

After getting my drink on in a testosterone fueled kinda way, I was on the dance floor for the whole show... Even got to give Eddie Van Halen a high five because the rest of the shit-bird "guests" were too cool to dance. Also in attendance? Valerie Bertinellli. Probably a lot of other important folks too.

Anyhoo, the clock hits midnight and the balloons come down and everybody is hugging and taking another blow or hit or whatever they did, and all of a sudden a rumor hits the crowd. Senator Kennedy is outside and wants to come in and the security team is not letting him. This turns out to be true, and after either a threat or money changing hands, in walks the very red-faced but rigorous looking Senator. He draws all the attention like a freaking shooting star. And let me tell you, the ladies did flock.

I can't remember if I shook his hand or not but I do remember that he was drunker than Cooter Brown, stumbling a bit and slurring a bit, highball in hand. I thought that was the end of the story, but it wasn't.

So I leave the club after the best live show I will ever see and go home to start recovering from the debauch. Oh but there's more. One of my friend's took a date to the show... she flew in from California. She was, well... she was hot. Smokin' hot and 25. The Senator liked her... a lot. The phone rings at our crash pad at 3am. We let it ring. It rings again, and again. It's Senator Kennedy calling for Cali girl.

He is charming and insistent enough to convince her to come out with him the next day skiing (and also with Eddie Van Halen). She goes with Teddy and Eddie in a fine limo. And that's all I know. Good Catholic boy the late Senator. He proved to me in the span of ten minutes that there's no need to cease living the fraternity boy life if you command power.

I'll say one thing for the man, he had fun, and he never had to pay the piper for it. Maybe now.