We followed Susan through a dark corridor to a gray, narrow hallway. There we waited against a concrete wall with several other people nearby.Some were holding copies of Barry's book while others had album covers to sign. They may have been family because they were dressed very well, not in Manilow t-shirts. Brooklyn wasn't that far.
It was close to midnight. I looked at Jill, who by now had been up twenty-seven straight hours. She looked tired from the trip and the excitement but she was wide awake. We were speechless, either remembering everything that brought us this far or just anxious for what was about to happen.
Marc came over to greet us. He was dressed in a gray suit and tie. I introduced him to Jill and he was amazed at her endurance.As we were talking I looked over his shoulder and there was Barry Manilow himself. He wore a really nice royal blue sweater and dark slacks. He held a half-full champagne glass as he signed books and albums with a black marker.
Barry noticed us and walked over, asking Marc to remove the rope railing that separated us. "Hey, hi!" he smiled. There we were- face-to-face-to face. Our wish come true.
Just like the bookstore I went blank and forgot everything I wanted to say. I asked if he remembered me from the book signing.
"Sure," he said "How could I forge?/"
Jill mentioned Oslo and Barry told her the lovely Sculpture Park in the middle of the city was a highlight of his brief visit.
We chatted small talk, telling him how much we loved his music. I showed him the original letter form the fan club that I brought along. Marc read it aloud after Barry held it up to the light, squinting without his reading glasses.
"So, when is the wedding?" he asked.
We both looked at each other and blushed. Finally he asked if there was anything we wanted him to do..an autograph?
Jill saved the day. I completely forgot about our cameras. "We would loved to take a picture with you!" she asked sweetly.
'Sure," he replied, moving closer. Whatever happened to the no-camera policy?
So, with Barry on the right, smiling brightly, Jill in the middle, very ecstatic, and yours truly on the left, grinning sheepishly, Marc snapped the shot.
"Let's take one more to make sure we got it," Marc suggested.
So we did. A moment that would last forever.
I was glad the TV cameras weren't there. It was a very personal and intimate moment.
We shook hands again and said our farewell., Barry wished us good luck, wishing Jill a safe trip home and departing with 'See you again sometime."
It happened so fast and it was over. It wouldn't sink in until later that night how truly special it was.
When we emerged into the theater once more we were met with bright lights, Mike and a rolling camera.
So what were our reactions? "Great!" Jill exclaimed. She felt "shaky' but it was definitely worth it.
What did Manilow say? It was hard to recall, even though it was only moments before. We were still in a fog.
Off-camera Mike was happy we got two pictures. Jill was a bit hesitant about giving up her film, even though Mike promised to develop all the pictures on her roll and return them as soon as possible. I couldn't blame her for worrying. This was our proof., worth their weight in gold ( at least to us).
We met my family outside the theater and said goodbye to Mike and crew. Jill surprised him with a little crystal knick-knack she bought in Oslo. We thanked him for everything once again.
I was sorry he would disappear from our lives as quickly as he appeared. He said he would be in touch soon with an exact air date of the report.
As we waved to the crew Mike looked back and yelled, "Let me know the wedding date. Maybe we ca do a future story!"
We got home that night around 3:00 in the morning. We were all ready to crash but Jill and I took a moment to be alone and hug. Jill thought Manilow looked shorter in person. I imagined him to be taller at the bookstore. She said she held back from giving him a hug, not wanting to be the hysterical fan. But she did vow never to wash the sweater she wore again, especially where he touched it..
Soon it was Monday and she was headed home. A reporter from the local newspaper caught wind of the story and stopped by to do an interview and take pictures. More publicity. In Norway Jill was still unknown. In America she would soon have her fifteen minutes of fame. In that way she was glad to be going home.
I would see her later in the upcoming summer. Then maybe forever? That was the plan.
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