The woman stared at the two fourteen year old girls. “And what are you two supposed to be?”, she asked. “Nineteen!”, they both shrilled back. The woman, mother of the young ladies didn’t bother to ask further. She knew the reason behind the would be adult get-ups, the lipstick, the false eyelashes, so thick and fulsome that they almost hid the splotches of green eye shadow that lay heavily on the girls’ eyelids. She’d known all day in fact – ever since their arrival in Las Vegas for what she‘d foolishly hoped would be a nice, pleasant and rather routine weekend – that the girls had begun to plot something. Specifically, and as one of them had put it in loud and passionate whispering: the “Crash of the Century!” More specifically, a plan to invade that hairy Eyre up on the eighteenth floor of the Sahara Hotel – the Beatles’ bedroom – where the Liverpudlian lads, also recently arrived, were throwing an invitation only party for a few hundred local and Hollywood VIPs.
Added George, “You’ve given our party a little charm. For that we’re thankful.”
Added John, “Stay why don’t you?”
Added Ringo “A while, at least.”
“All right, okay!”, I called out, "Enough of this. It’s getting close to midnight! Time for all Cinderella’s to get to their coaches!”
"Ringo, Paul and George were in complete yawning agreement. They rose, said goodnight and scooted for their rooms. John – since this was his room – of course remained. And when I repeated my Cinderella remark the girls looked at Johnny and said, “We’re not tired if you’re not, John!”
"Johnny simply shrugged and began to say, “Well...” And as if this were an invitation to make camp there, for years, for however long they wanted, the girls jumped in their chairs and said, “Oh good! We’ll stay then!”
"I began to laugh. “You don’t think...”, I started to say."
“Why not?”, said one of the cops. “Lots of little girls around here like to crash entertainers parties and some entertainers, ma’am, they end up liking to entertain little girls!”
“Oh noooooo!”, I moaned.
“Don’t get nervous” said the cop, "I could be wrong. My partner and I, we’ll just go up for a look-see."
“Double fooey” agreed the other, as the Beatles’ man hurried to open the door. And there stood the police. They looked into the room and saw the girls. The cops asked their names. The girls identified themselves.
Read My Other Beatle Blogs:
50 Years of Beatlemania: The Ed Sullivan Show @ Here!
Capitol Canada + The Lost Beatle albums story @ Here!
Alt: Beatle Albums + Peripheral Dependency @ Here!
New Capitol-"ist" Box Set + Remarketing the Beatles for the 21st Century @ Here!
I Remember John Lennon @ Here!
COMING: Demythologizing the Beatles!