That time I met PRINCE

Early morning at First Ave in Minneapolis, celebrating the life of Prince with an all night dance party on the night Prince died. On assignment for Rolling Stone.

I was running into West Photo to pick up supplies, something I’ve been doing almost daily since moving to Minneapolis 20 years ago. It was a warm summer afternoon, late in the workday, with rush hour traffic beginning to surge. I was downtown and needed to grab something and get back to Hallie and the girls in south Minneapolis. It was the kids’ last day of school for the year, and we were going to celebrate with ice cream.

I climbed out of my champagne minivan and walked toward the door. Distracted, I noticed a purple form out of the corner of my eye, hovering across the parking lot. I turned to look, and discovered a small person in a purple cloak, feet hidden by the cloth, gliding in a trajectory toward the same door.

Before my mind could even form the word PRINCE, he reached the door first, swung it open, smiled and said ‘Hi’ as I walked past.

‘Thanks’, I said, giggling a little as I went by, and returned the favor by opening the second door for him as he strode into the store.

Inside, everyone seemed to be panicking, and thinking the same thing: PRINCE IS HERE! Behind the counter, a salesman fumbled with a printer he was demonstrating for a beautiful young woman. Apparently she was a friend of Prince, who had come inside to pay the bill. As I waited my turn in line, Prince turned around and looked at me again, this time rolling his eyes.

I walked out excited, and wanted to share the experience. I wasn’t too interested in Facebook at the time, but figured this could be a prime opportunity to update my status. So I posted it from my car, and drove onto the freeway to meet the family. Later that day I checked my status and realized, sadly, that nobody ‘liked’ it. How stupid social media must be, I thought.

But now I’m thankful for the reminder, as I scroll to the very bottom of my Facebook page, diving back into the daily routine of June 8th, 2010: On my way to meet Hallie and the kids for ice cream on the last day of school before summer vacation, the pure joy of meeting Prince in the West Photo parking lot, him holding the door for me, and both of us saying hello.

By david@bowmanstudio.com

I grew up in Chicagoland, studied writing in Madison, trekked across the Australian outback on a camel, and settled down in the Twin Cities after that.