I really wasn't wanting to do this, but its one of those things you never forget. And fortunately the outcome was eventually positive, so I feel better about relating the story.

About 10 years ago when I was on the road for Airtex, I was standing on an observation platform at Hopkins Airport in Cleveland, just killing time and waiting for departure. I didn't really notice him at first, and when I did I suppose I looked a bit startled by his appearance so I felt like I had to make some sort of conversation attempt. I had been joined by a short, oddly attired, little guy who was also just staring out into the middle distance (which is pretty common in Cleveland). I said something about the Spring day, like how pretty it was even for Cleveland, or something like that. I didn't get a response so I thought I'd asked, "Going home?" He stepped up suddenly onto the guardrail, glanced at me and said, "Yeah, I am." And with that brief remark leapt out. I was totally dumfounded and completely appalled as he flailed through the air. Not a sight you can ever forget. Then he hit the ground some 40 feet below like, pardon the expression, a sack of wet cement. After a few surgeries and extensive hospitalization, he is now just fine. Evidently he had forgotten to factor in the added weight of the little Telecaster and the Waylon Heron's flight home was delayed for several months while he recuperated.

Spaw