So since I was going to San Jose for the long weekend, I had to fly, which meant I spent an entire day in a panic trying to get everything accomplished before I left. (Am I ever going to learn to plan for vacations better? I didn’t think so). It didn’t help that I had spent the previous night out after the Nine Inch Nails show. I left work half an hour later than I wanted to, but still managed to get to the airport in time for the flight. I was absolutely the last person on the plane. As I’m waiting for everyone to find their seats, I notice a guy sitting in the aisle seat typing furiously on a blackberry. Then I notice that he’s not in a business suit, but rather a black t-shirt and jeans. Black dyed hair. I look at the guy across the aisle from him; same thing. Wearing all black, hair dyed black. I look back at the blackberry guy and notice the beefy arms, but he’s still not looking up enough for me to tell if he’s actually who I think he is: I don’t want to embarrass myself, so I use Kramer technique for figuring out who someone is. I call out “Hey Trent!”. He looks up at me blankly.

Me: “You played a great show last night.”
Trent: “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.” *shakes my hand*.

That’s right. Trent Reznor (and the keyboard player was the other guy) was on my flight. I’m on my way to San Jose, but we stopped in Phoenix, where NIN is playing a couple shows this weekend. Proud of myself for not totally obsessed fan-ing out on him, I take my seat on the plane, resisting the urge to sit within talking distance of him. I mean, the guy’s minding his own business, right? But during the flight, my superfan status takes over and I keep trying to think of reasons why I need to talk to him again at greater length. The majority of the flight we had turbulence though, so the flight attendants weren’t letting people walk around. Finally, the ride was smooth for a while. I decided to go to the bathroom, walk by and see if he was doing anything. He had a Sony PSP and was playing tetris or some game that looked like it. Either way, I didn’t want to interrupt. Once in the lavatory, I remembered that I still have the May issue of Spin in my backpack (the one with Trent Reznor on the cover). I decided that I would just have him autograph it. While I’m in the bathroom though, we hit more turbulence and the safety belt light comes on again. And then the plane starts its decent into Phoenix. Realizing that this is my last chance, I decide to go for it while the flight attendants are cleaning up the back of the plane.

Me: *Tap Trent on the shoulder*. “Hey, I’m sorry to do the stupid fan thing, but would you mind signing my May issue of Spin?”
Trent: “Sure.” *signs the cover*
Me: “I really liked the show last night. The track selection was awesome. Are you guys playing Phoenix tonight?”
Trent: “Naw, we’re playing tomorrow and the next night.”
Flight Attendant: “Please take your seat.”

So before I could work up the nerve to ask for the photo op, the flight attendant shut me down. Too bad. But, I do have my autographed cover of Spin. It brings up an interesting question though. Why did I want it? I have no idea what I’m going to do with this issue of Spin. Do I frame it and put it on the wall? Maybe. I used to be a horrible autograph whore. I used to stay at shows way after the show was over to see if I could meet the band, get them to sign ticket stubs, cds, posters, whatever. Then I woke up one day and thought to myself, why? I still keep ticket stubs because I have some strange idea in my mind that I’ll make some collage of them at some point. But by the time I do that I’ll be a thousand years old and I think I’ll feel somewhat like Uncle Rico every time I look at it. All of this being said, sitting here on the plane, my only thought was “How am I going to get him to autograph this issue of Spin.” The logical “what the hell do I want it for?” question was still there in my mind, but I completely left it unanswered and insisted on getting the autograph, which Trent politely gave me without a scowl. His really quiet demeanor made me feel bad for bothering him. He kind of reminded me of my friend, Kevn (the devil machine). If I didn’t know him, I’d feel bad for bothering him because he always looks like he’s got his own shit going on and doesn’t need to be bothered. Not in a bad way, just like he has better things to do than sign issues of Spin. But fuck it, when am I ever going to meet Trent Reznor again?