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Edited on Mon Feb-21-05 09:18 PM by zulchzulu
It was in 1998 when Johnny Depp and Hunter S. Thompson were on tour for the release of the film "Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas" in San Francisco and were to be at The Booksmith on Haight Street at 5PM for a booksigning and to meet the author and his compadre.
I went with a friend and we decided to leave work early (both at a dot bomb) and go see The Man. First, we had to score some doobage and have a couple Guinness' at Martin Mack's. We were ready.
Well, 5PM came along and the store was closed with a sign that Hunter and Johnny were going to be there at 7 instead. Many people had gathered for the best spot by 5PM, so it was a bit of a bummer for everyone to have to wait a couple more hours. We went back to Mack's.
By 6:30, a line had formed blocks long to get a chance to meet Hunter. We got in line about four blocks away...pot smoke filled the air and people were drinking beers from paper bags. Some van had some old Dead concert blaring for good measure within earshot of the ever increasing line.
The bookstore finally opened at around 7:30. Word that Hunter and Johnny would be there was followed with a limo that showed up. They got out and the long parade of people began to crowd into the small bookstore to see them, get photos taken, books signed, underwear signed...whatever.
By the time I got to see Hunter and Johnny, both were very smashed and sharing a bottle of Scotch. A woman about ten feet away from me french-kissed Johnny while Hunter cheered.
Finally, the moment had come. I had a camera and wanted a photo of Hunter and I and have him autograph my very dog-eared and worn "Fear and Loathing" paperback.
Suddenly, some guy behind me screamed for me to take a picture of him and Hunter and he tossed his camera at me. I missed and the camera fell on the ground. Some people near Hunter screamed.
Hunter, on a severe buzz, looked up and started screaming something. I have no idea what he was saying, but it appeared that he thought someone threw something at him. That was my guess.
He lunged at us with his bottle and I figured it was a good time to leave.
On thinking of his death now, I can see how he was so frustrated with America. I could see why he was full of rage sometimes.
RIP, Hunter.
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