Indianapolis • 6PM show

AIR OF CONFIDENCE

[…] I remember one time when a nineteen-year-old boy was involved. It was some months ago in the States. We’d just arrived at the Indianapolis motel for the night and our rooms had their doors opening off a first-floor balcony. In England, I collect all the room keys when we arrive at each hotel. I go round showing the boys which room belongs to them. In America, all this is usually handled by the hotel and their security people.

ALL the rooms are opened up for the whole party in advance and a hotel manager or somebody will take each Beatle to his room. On this occasion, the boys had disappeared into different rooms and I had been shown mine. Everything was in chaos as it always is for the first five or ten minutes when we arrive.

I had no idea who was in which room. Suddenly, this waiter bloke comes along the balcony holding a big tray in each hand. They were carried way above each shoulder in very professional style.

“This The Beatles’ room?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Why?” I countered.
“They ordered tea and sandwiches.”
“Oh. O.K. Just take them in, will you?”

I opened the door for him. For the next ten minutes I was all tied up with Mal sorting out the baggage. Not being able to remember who was where, I checked with one of the hotel people and they showed me where each lot of baggage belonged.

Finally, I couldn’t remember which was my own room. I was shown it and was just taking my stuff inside when I spotted the “waiter,” still with his two trays inside my room. I snatched the metal cover off his plate of “sandwiches” and found bits of old crust underneath.

So he didn’t get to meet The Beatles as he planned — despite the clever disguise and careful planning. Because I had accidentally sent him into my own room instead of the one occupied by the boys!

From Fabulous208 – July 2, 1966