I've been in a few interesting shows, and the first time I was in a big one, I had been told that there would be a car waiting for me at the airport. So I was looking around for a van or something. A man wearing fancy livery, holding open the door of a gleaming stretch limo, said, "Mr. Solomon?"
I was in my jeans and flannel shirt, looking around, confused; "Me?"
A group of people on the platform looked over, and began gesturing and whispering: "Look; he's Someone. I think he's Someone."
So, there was my 15 minutes of fame. Literally, as it turns out, because my 15 minute set was featured on national TV. For a short period of time after that, I would get recognized in unexpected places, but it didn't last, of course. A few weeks later, I was back to performing at backyard barbecues and church suppers for 15 people.
But getting back to that limo ride; there might have been champagne in the limo's bar, but I have no idea. Since there were no groupies, I didn't feel like rolling around by myself in all that empty space, so I asked the driver if I could just ride up front with him.
"Whatever you want, sir." he intoned. (I wanted groupies, but, whatever.) So we rode along to the hotel, with the cavernous pleasure-dome of extravagance, following hollow and vacant behind us.
There's glory for you.