The first time I met Mick Jagger was in 1978. My girlfriend Meryl and I had graduated from our funky wine-drinking, cigarette-smoking, hippie-teachered, rich-white-kid-with-problems "alternative" high school in New Jersey, and we liked walking around the city.
When we needed to use a bathroom, we went to a hotel, because they wouldn't kick you out like in a restaurant. We must have been walking around Central Park, because we decided to make a pit stop at the Plaza. Somewhere along the line, I had picked up a motorcycle helmet from the trash. It was kind of beaten up. If Read more