While waiting to pick up my sister and her family at Pearson’s Terminal 1 last night (and oh yes, is Terminal 1 so much nicer than the skank-o-riffic Terminal 2), I noticed a young woman holding up a sign right by the doors leading to the baggage claim area. This wasn’t noticeable in itself. There are always a half-dozen or so folks with signs like that; some with names of people, others with names of tour groups.
What made this woman’s sign unusual was the name on it: Paul Stanley.
The KISS guitarist? I thought. Of course that would be the first thing that came to my mind. I’m a former solider in the KISS Army (I filled out a form at the age of 10 and got a small kit including some stickers and buttons plus an announcement of their upcoming movie, Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park.)
Ten minutes later, Paul Stanley emerged from baggage claim. He was actually looking good — pretty healthy, wearing a black blazer, black shirt, black scarf, jeans and dress shoes. He looked more like an architect (of either buildings or software) or ad exec than a rock star, and nobody seemd to know who he was.
Naturally, I “threw the horns” at him with a silent nod and a smile, and got a nod and smile back. Then, the young woman walked off with him, presumably to a waiting limo.
Welcome back to Accordion City, Paul.
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...I "threw the horns" at him with a silent nod and a smile
Classy and low-key: excellent "Holy crap it's a rock god!" etiquette