This morning as I drove my father to LAX, he remembered meeting David Bowie some 30 or more years ago on a plane. Boarding their flight, my father and mother took their seats next to a passenger hiding under a scarf and big hat. Before takeoff, they politely asked the man why he was hiding under the hat. The passenger told them that he was a celebrity and didn't want to be recognized and bothered. His curiosity piqued, my father asked the man who he was, and the man replied that he was David Bowie. Not recognizing the name, my father then asked Bowie what he did for a living, to which Bowie said he was a musician.
At that point my mother, whose wry sense of humor is better than the pastrami at Langer's, smiled and said, "Your secret is safe with us."
RIP David Bowie.
Yours in transit,