The Night Nancy Reagan Asked Me to Undress in Her Elevator
It hardly seems possible it could have been fifty years
ago.
The year of 1966 was the year everything in my life
changed. I graduated from John Marshall High
School and started at UCLA. And between
those two events – were the two most important moments of my life. The start of my ten cowboy years - and the
loss of my virginity.
It was also the year I became involved with an exceedingly wide
range of ‘only in LA’ people such as Carlos Castaneda/Don Juan (who were the
same person) and Thelma Moss, both of whom I met at UCLA after discovering I had
inherited certain talents I was never told existed in my family until after
they abruptly appeared.
There were far more people trying to get into the Biltmore Bowl (which I am – 95% certain was the room) than there was going to be room for and I had heard the fire marshals had already shut the doors while I was still walking down a packed hallway trying to find a place to change into the suit I was carrying when someone unexpectedly placed a hand on my shoulder. I turned and it was Nancy Reagan.
There were far more people trying to get into the Biltmore Bowl (which I am – 95% certain was the room) than there was going to be room for and I had heard the fire marshals had already shut the doors while I was still walking down a packed hallway trying to find a place to change into the suit I was carrying when someone unexpectedly placed a hand on my shoulder. I turned and it was Nancy Reagan.
CORRECTED Link is here
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