It took me a day or so after Robert Redford died to remember that I have a Robert Redford story. Bob and I — I called him Bob — we go way back.

I was tromping around Guatemala with my friend Ron in 1992 and we were in a town called Panajachel, which is on the shore of a gorgeous lake and close to several other interesting towns and therefore a big tourist draw. It's so lousy with Americans tromping through or moving there that it has a sneering nickname that uses the Mayan suffix for town: Gringotenango.

Click the photo to read Roger Ebert's

review of The Sting, a prescient biopic

of the future singer for the Police.

Ron and I were walking down a dirt street there and it's going to take us a while to get where we're going so let me fill time by telling you I'll be playing at The Cave in Chapel Hill Saturday with Blood Red River and Paco & the Panhandlers. Those are both good bands and it should be a good show and if you can get to Chapel Hill without too much disruption to your life you should come.

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OK Ron and I have made our way down the street and we've just passed one of the many shops selling traje típico, the colorful traditional Guatemalan clothing, which a certain brand of backpacking American really went for in 1992 and probably still does. I was closer to the buildings than Ron and as I passed by the shop's open door I saw a familiar face look up from the items he was browsing through — a VERY attentive salesman by his side — and our eyes met.

Now, you're probably thinking that was Robert Redford.

It was. It was Bob. But let's leave him there for a second and I'll tell you about Elton John, because Robert Redford and I locking eyes was 33 years ago and Elton John was last weekend.

I had a dream and Elton John was in it stick with me even though I'm talking about a dream and it sucks when people tell you about their dreams.

I have a new song called Stupid. I'm very happy with it. I'm planning to record it soon, and that'll be a story for another newsletter because if everything works out some very badass people are going to play with me. One of those people is Elton John.

Not really. Remember when I said I'd lie sometimes in this newsletter? Some are easier to catch than others.

I spent last week practicing and practicing this new song because I wanted to play it Sunday at the wonderful Tongue & Groove open mic in Raleigh, and me being a person old enough to have been walking and talking and knowing my letters and numbers and everything in 1992, it takes a while before I can reliably remember the words to a new song.

So a night or two before the open mic I had a stress dream about it. I was playing a gig at some unfamiliar place. I sang Stupid and it went great. I don't remember singing it, I just somehow knew it went great. And here's the best part: Elton John liked it!

Yeah, someone told me "Hey Elton John's here and he liked your new song." And then I saw Elton walking toward the exit so I went over to say hello. 

Here's the thing about the Elton John in my dream: He looked nothing like Elton John. He was young, for one thing, and maybe Italian or something, with a dark complexion and short dark hair and a conservative outfit that included I think a denim blazer. He looked more or less like this guy from Hacks. 

Click the photo for a surprise.

I mean, this was not Elton John as you know him. This was not Elton John as I know him. But in that dream way, I knew it was Elton John, the same way I knew singing Stupid had gone well.

He stopped and we chatted for a second — he had an American accent. I thanked him for coming out and he confirmed that he liked my song and I asked him if I could give him a CD.

He kinda went ... wellllll and had that look that means no man I really don't want your stupid CD and I'm not sure the best way to say that.

Like after being famous for 55 years Elton John hasn't figured out a graceful way to say thanks but no thanks.

So I let him off the hook real quick. I said can I get a selfie? The wife's a big fan. That was the first thing in this dream that was even remotely true in real life. It's very true in real life.

He said sure and because this was a stress dream the phone app wouldn't work on my camera and because this was a stress dream I couldn't just ask one of the every single other people around us who had phones if they would take a pic and send it to me and because this was a stress dream I said let me use my laptop and because this was a stress dream my laptop was right there even though I've never had a laptop at a gig in my life and because this was a stress dream I couldn't figure out how to get my laptop to take a picture because this was a stress dream so I had to know the name of the app that would let me do that and because this was a stress dream I couldn't remember the name of that app and Elton John patiently waited for all of this, which took about eight years.

Just a lovely guy, that Elton John.

I never got the selfie but if you want to hear me sing Stupid for the second time I'm going to sing it at The Cave in Chapel Hill Saturday night. You should come. Elton John might be there. Blood Red River and Paco & the Panhandlers will definitely be there. 

But let's get back to Robert Redford.

When we left Bob, he and I had just locked eyes as I walked past the open door of a little shop where he was browsing traditional clothing in Gringotenango Guatemala.

Everything in this paragraph after the colon happened in about a half-second: I did that little up-nod thing you do when you see a friend or acquaintance on the street, my friend or acquaintance did NOT nod back at me, and the oddness of that non-response made my thinkbrain take over from my lizardbrain and say "That wasn't a friend of yours dummy that was Robert Redford." By this time I was a step past the doorway. Bob and I had been in sight of each other for maybe one second.

I asked Ron — remember Ron? He's the guy I was tromping around Guatemala with — if he'd seen what I'd seen and he said no. I told him and we both died laughing. We just expired. One of us might have fallen down in the street. We joined the choir invisible.

You know how when you're traveling with someone and it's going well you start building a little library of running jokes? Seeing Robert Redford in a típica shop was a perfect punch line for one of those. What the joke was is lost to history, but that's why it was so funny.

On the way to Guatemala we had seen Lyle Lovett striding through the Houston airport with his guitar, so this became a new running joke: What celebrity are we going to see next? This was a lot more obvious as the only logical answer in 1992 than it is now but here it is:

Sting. 
 

I will not let this joke go.

We did not see Sting but we did stumble upon a Venezuelan telenovela taping an absurd archaeological dig scene at the Mayan ruins at Tikal. We were told by a crewmember that the female lead, Veronica something, was a huge star in Venezuela. 

Ron and I sat on a low stone wall and watched for a few minutes and then for some reason Veronica, about to tape a scene, brusquely asked me to hold her little digital camera for her before sliding down the little embankment to the "dig." Maybe she thought I was part of the crew.

I took it and we watched them do a couple of takes down there and then Veronica Something scrambled back up to us and I handed her camera back to her and she chirped "Gracias!" and for about the same amount of time I'd locked eyes with Bob she switched on a smile that the word dazzling only hints at.

I looked at Ron and he said "I didn't believe that guy who said she was a big star until just now."

My point is I'm surprised Variety didn't call me to get a quote for Bob's obit, since we went to Guatemala together.

If you mention Robert Redford or Sting or Veronica Something to me at The Cave Saturday I'll give you the CD I was going to give Elton John. 

You can always stay up to date on what I'm doing on my website's SHOWS page.

Thanks for reading, listening and coming on out.

Your friend,

The King Teen

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