I'm writing it for Chris Schaberg. I thought the prose would work better if I didn't include this one. But it's worth knowing.
My dad used to be in this avant garde jazz band, Centipede. Keith Tippett, Robert Fripp, most of Soft Machine, Robert Wyatt, four other drummers (!) and up to 100 musicians all told, hence the name.
After an infamous European tour it was time to fly home. It was 1971 and everyone was tripping off their face. One young woman, a violinist I think, had to be carried on board, screaming.
In the middle of the flight one of the stronger people there stood up in his kaftan to reassure the passengers:
"It's all right, children! It's all right my children!"
That's fantastic! We might have to add this as an addendum or something. (Or at least we'll include it in a sidebar in the book. Our agent wants little sidebar stories like this sprinkled throughout the book.)
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