As I stood front of my favorite Beatle, the only thing I could think of was that his contact lenses looked like they hurt him. He smiled and stuck out his hand and without thinking, I rested my right arm on top of his left while we shook hands! “John, ” I said, “are your contacts bothering you?” “No,” he answered. I got the distinct feeling that not too many people had asked that question. Undaunted I plunged on, “I have them too!” I confided. He leaned closer and stared searchingly into my eyes. “Are yours bothering you?” he said with a straight face. “No.” I stammered and then we both laughed. “They’re good aren’t they?” John said seriously and I could only nod, not trusting my voice. “But your eyes are prettier than mine.” John said and to my dismay unwanted tears rolled down my cheeks. “Hey” John said with a slight laugh. “Don’t cry or they’ll wash away!” I smiled through my tears as I blurted, “John you’re my favorite.” He smiled warmly, gave my hand a final shake and said, “You’re my favorite.” —The Girl Who Got To Meet The Beatles (Datebook Magazine Winter)
I can’t do this right now.