"Warning: David Bowie Story. Years ago I was working backstage at a theatre in NYC. We were hosting a ballet company that was doing their annual holiday time money grab. This particular year it was a production of the Nutcracker aimed at children. Word travelled quickly that David Bowie was in the audience with his wife and kids. The organizer of the ballet passed them a message through the ushers that asked them to stay after to meet the dancers and take pictures. When the time came to collect David Bowie from the audience and usher him backstage, I was somehow nominated and as a huge Bowie fan, I was star-struck and panicked. I quickly devised a plan wherein I would greet Freaking David Freaking Bowie and walk him quickly to the backstage entrance, say "right through here, sir", and duck into a nearby restroom. Getting to the stage from that particular door was a bit of a labyrinth (ha) but the thought of trying to keep it together while walking them the all the way to the stage was just too much. All goes according to plan until I go to enter the restroom. David Bowie pivots and says "Oh, is that the restroom?" Whatever happened next was a total blur, but the next thing I know I am alone in a small restroom (two urinals and a stall) with David Bowie. Me and Bowie. Pissing in tandem. You know how sometimes your brain throws out the most bizarre thoughts in the the most awkward situations in order to make you laugh? All I could think of was "I wonder if he's spinning his testicles like those metal balls in Labyrinth..." I remained frozen, eyes forward, unflinching, dick in hand as David Bowie flushed, washed his hands and exited. That was my uncomfortable brush with greatness. RIP, Bowie. We love you."