Starstruck

Pearl Jam's Ten was a huge album for me. Actually, that's a reckless understatement.

After Chris Hilbert and I froze our butts off on Mt Rainier's Disappointment Cleaver, it was Evenflow that we cranked when we finally made it back to the parking lot. A month later, my friends were about ready to kill me as I listened to Ten pretty much nonstop on the drive up from Georgia to the Great Smokey Mountains National Park.

If you could travel back in time to 1992 and look over my shoulder, it would be an even money bet that Ten would be playing.

So here I am standing in the lobby of the St Regis and lead singer Eddie Vedder is talking to me and I can't seem to make my mouth work right. He's here for the SIMA Waterman's Ball where he will receive the award for Environmentalist Of the Year and seems amazing low-key and friendly.

Nikki has just barged in asked for a photo, which I dutifully shot.

"Did you get it?" he asks me, nodding toward my camera.

"mmmn nnnug mmmmmm aaarcgggvv," I stammer.

He cocks an eyebrow and walks away with a grin.

Look really closely in the lens of his sunglasses and you can see me.

I swear.

Nikki gets the photo and I get a mouth full of marbles, starstruck.