I was in Las Vegas, covering the National Association of Broadcasters convention for Rolling Stone, when I ran into John Lennon at the Stardust Hotel. He was wearing a white suit and sunglasses, and he had a guitar case in his hand. He recognized me from the time we met in London, when I interviewed him for the magazine. He said he was in town to record some demos with Phil Spector, and he invited me to join him for a drink.
We ended up at a bar called The Emerald City, which was supposed to be a Wizard of Oz-themed strip club, but it looked more like a sci-fi nightmare. The walls were painted with stars and planets, the music was a mix of disco and rock, and the dancers were dressed as characters from the movie, but with a twist. There was Dorothy, in a silver sequined dress and ruby slippers, but she also had a ray gun and a jet pack. There was the Tin Man, in a metallic suit and a helmet, but he also had a chainsaw and a flamethrower. There was the Scarecrow, in a straw hat and a patchwork coat, but he also had a bazooka and a grenade belt. And there was the Cowardly Lion, in a furry costume and a crown, but he also had a machine gun and a knife. But the most bizarre thing was the flying apes. They were real apes, wearing astronaut uniforms, and they were flying around the club on wires, swinging from poles and chandeliers, and grabbing the dancers and the customers. They were trained to do tricks and stunts, but they also seemed to have a mind of their own. They were unpredictable and dangerous, and they added to the chaos and confusion of the place.
John and I sat at a table near the stage, and ordered some drinks. He told me about his latest projects, his troubles with the Beatles, and his love for Yoko. I told him about my latest assignments, my adventures with Dr. Gonzo, and my love for drugs. We had a lot in common, and we hit it off. We also had a lot of fun, watching the show, tipping the dancers, and playing with the apes. We were having a blast, until the trouble started. It was one of the apes that started it. He was a big one, with a red helmet and a blue suit. He had a badge on his chest that said "Major Tom". He was flying around the club, and he spotted John. He must have recognized him from the TV or the radio, because he flew towards him, and grabbed his guitar case. He opened it, and took out John's guitar. He started to play with it, plucking the strings and making noises. John was not amused. He got up, and tried to get his guitar back. He shouted at the ape, "Hey, you bloody monkey, give me that! That's my guitar, you know. It's a Rickenbacker, it's very expensive. Give it back, or I'll sue you!" The ape did not listen. He flew away, with the guitar in his hands. He flew to the other side of the club, where there was a band playing. He joined them, and started to play along. He was surprisingly good, for an ape. He played some chords, some riffs, some solos. He even sang, in a way.
He sang some of John's songs, like "Help!", "Imagine", and "Give Peace a Chance". He sang them in a high-pitched, screechy voice, but he got the words right. He was mocking John, and he knew it. John was furious. He chased the ape, across the club, through the crowd, over the tables. He yelled at him, "Stop that, you bastard! Stop playing my songs! You're ruining them, you're making a mockery of them! You're making a mockery of me! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" The ape did not stop. He kept playing, and singing, and laughing. He was having fun, and so was the crowd. They cheered him on, and clapped along. They thought it was part of the show, a joke, a prank. They did not realize that John was serious, that he was angry, that he was hurt. They did not realize that he was a legend, a genius, a star. They did not realize that he was John Lennon. I tried to help John, to calm him down, to get his guitar back. But I was too late. He had already lost it. He had snapped. He had gone mad. He grabbed a bottle from a table, and threw it at the ape. He missed, and hit a dancer instead. She screamed, and fell to the floor. The crowd gasped, and booed. The bouncers rushed to the scene, and grabbed John. They dragged him out of the club, and threw him on the street. They said he was drunk, and violent, and crazy. They said he was not welcome there, and he should never come back. They said he was a troublemaker, a nuisance, a menace. They said he was Benito Mussolini.
I followed John, and tried to explain. I told them he was not Mussolini, he was Lennon. I told them he was not a menace, he was a musician. I told them he was not crazy, he was creative. I told them he was my friend, and I was his journalist. I told them they had made a mistake, a big mistake, a huge mistake. I told them they had messed with the wrong guy, the wrong guitar, the wrong ape. I told them they had messed with history, with art, with rock and roll. I told them they had messed with the Beatles. But they did not listen. They did not care. They did not understand. They pushed me away, and slammed the door. They left me and John on the street, alone and confused. We looked at each other, and shrugged. We did not know what to do, or where to go, or what to say. We had no guitar, no money, no car. We had no friends, no fans, no fame. We had nothing, except each other. We decided to walk. We walked along the Strip, looking for a cab, or a bus, or a hitch. We walked past the casinos, the hotels, the neon signs. We walked past the people, the cars, the lights. We walked past the noise, the music, the laughter. We walked past the life, the fun, the magic. We walked past Las Vegas, and we did not belong.
We walked, and we talked. We talked about our lives, our dreams, our fears. We talked about our past, our present, our future. We talked about our work, our art, our vision. We talked about our love, our pain, our hope. We talked, and we listened. We listened to each other, and we understood. We understood each other, and we connected. We connected, and we bonded. We bonded, and we became friends. We became friends, and we stayed friends. We stayed in touch, and we helped each other. We helped each other, and we inspired each other. We inspired each other, and we changed each other. We changed each other, and we changed the world. We changed the world, and we made history. We made history, and we left a legacy. We left a legacy, and we became legends. We became legends, and we lived forever. We lived forever, and we never forgot. We never forgot that night, that club, that ape. We never forgot that guitar, that song, that chase. We never forgot that bottle, that dancer, that bouncer. We never forgot that street, that walk, that talk. We never forgot that moment, that feeling, that bond. We never forgot that friendship, that story, that adventure. We never forgot Las Vegas, 1971.