The maximum memorable journey I’ve ever taken? A whirlwind excursion with Elton John

But the real solution, one which I’ve stored in the main to myself till now, is this: Way returned in 1992, at the beginning of my writing journey career, Elton John invited me to London for a whirlwind experience that covered being behind the scenes for his concerts at Wembley Stadium, staying over at his townhouse invaluable London and his rambling estate in Windsor, assembly royals, attending a celebrity-studded lawn birthday party and racing round city in police-escorted Bentley limousines.

I’m writing about it now after seeing Rocketman, the fantastical, musical biopic of Elton’s pre-sobriety life, which introduced recollections again from my experience, given that I become introduced to a few of the characters from the film. I met Elton after he jumped at the wagon (and has stayed there for nearly 30 years), so it was exciting to peer some of the antics in the movie that I best heard about from his friends and colleagues.

One of the things I remember the most about Elton is how smart he turned . You could imagine his mind going a mile a minute when talking to him. But at the same time, he should get recognition of you most effectively and make you feel like the best man or woman inside the room. I consider wondering that, apart from the razzle-dazzle, his sharp thoughts and mind propelled him to superstardom. It did not just “occur” to him. He created and sustained it for a lifetime — no easy feat. See the movie!

Anyway, you are likely wondering with the aid of now how all this occurred. ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN before I display the notes from my extensive journey (Yes, I took notes — an addiction of journey writers!). Back in the early 90s, amid the AIDS crisis, buddies died and left in my place of origin, Atlanta. In 1991, my lovely friend Al told me he had HIV, and after nine months, he changed lifeless. There became no remedy or cocktail returned then. I was his number one caregiver during the final months of his life and held his hand while dying in May 1992. It was a wholly dark and miserable time.

But like many younger homosexual men at the time (I was 32), I located pleasure, fun, and escape in my friends and busy social life. Another buddy, Scott, was working in real estate then, and his business enterprise turned into assisting Elton John in purchasing a rental in Atlanta. They ended up dating, and as a pal of Scott, I was periodically invited to participate in the whirl of his life with Elton. It became the suitable antidote to what was occurring at the bedside of my pal Al.

As I turned into getting better from the demise of Al, Scott called with an invite along the traces of: “You deserve a spoil. Why do you not return to London for the last three concerts of Elton’s The One World Tour? My brother and sister-in-regulation can be there, too, and you can hang out with each other, even as I race around with Elton. It would be right for you, so come on over.”

Back then, I had sufficient factors in TWA’s joint flyer program for a ticket to London. So I cashed them in, booked my experience, and was prompt on what could become one of the most memorable journeys of my lifestyle. Here are my notes. London, June 1992: Three weeks ago, my pal Scott, who lives with Elton John, invited me to return and visit for the duration of his London World Tour at Wembley Stadium.

Having a TWA ticket at my disposal, how should I say no? So I hopped on an aircraft remaining Thursday, changed into magically upgraded to first class on a giant Boeing 747 in St. Louis (I suppose Al changed into pulling a few strings for me up in heaven), had a lovely, short flight over the pond, and arrived in London at 7 a.M. Sharp Friday morning.

As I exited customs, an excellent chap, Derrick, became status there, keeping a signal looking forward to me. After a warm hello, we dashed off to the big green Bentley ready within the airport automobile park and drove to Elton’s townhome in Holland Park (which they called “Queensdale”), simply west of Hyde Park imperative London. [See Elton’s Homes in Architectural Digest.]

I arrived at a house abuzz with interest. Elton was, in the end, acting that night. There were fresh flowers everywhere, deliveries, telephone calls, maids, butlers, drivers, site visitors, and Bonnie Raitt crooning on the stereo. I went upstairs to my room after a brief chat with the celebrity and introductions to Bernie Taupin (tons sexier than I anticipated!) and his sheer-quality lady friend, a restaurateur from Los Angeles, Stephanie.

Anyway, I rested for a few hours while Scott, Elton, and others ran off to the brand-new Gianni Versace shop to spend gobs on the state-of-the-art trend-coloration apparel. I slept off jet lag and woke up once they were back. We had a nice salad for lunch, prepared by Margaret, Elton’s pleasant housemaid. Elton became up and lively, carrying full Versace regalia, including a blue pinnacle covered in studs. Those pants with a blue, gold, red, and simple design this is too wild to explain — something like massive paisleys or th interior of paisley — who knows what changed happening in Gianni’s mind while he came up with that one!

The next issue I knew was that we took off to Wembley in the late afternoon for the first of his 3 London concerts. Get this: We had a police escort through London’s Friday afternoon visitors, which felt like we were in a James Bond film. Three bobbies on bikes had been dodging in and out of visitors with lighting and sirens blaring, holding up six lanes so our motorcade could skip through. Elton and crew were in the fern green Bentley driven by Derrick. We accompanied a black one. Me, Bob (Elton’s assistant), Ron (the hair guy), Michael (aka Brenda, his valet), and Mikhail, a Norwegian actor with ice blue eyes that I couldn’t figure out what exactly he changed into doing there.