Indonesia: SFO, En Route (Day 1, Monday, 072709)

I watch a man gliding down the escalator with a mini entourage (a hippy-ish woman with her long, gray hair in a ponytail, an older gentleman in a cowboy hat).

The Important Personage is wearing: a loose-fitting black suit, shiny, red (and possibly glittery) trainers, a wide tie printed with piano keys, and rose-colored glasses. In his left ear dangles an earring of an inverted cross.

He floats up and down the escalator a couple of times, and I become increasingly agitated. Is it like Michael Jackson impersonators? I mean, surely his wardrobe is too stereotypically him and contrary to the Incognito Celeb.

And could I be the only one who recognizes him? There's not even a flicker of recognition on the part of the other bystanders.

But we are at the International Terminal of SFO, after all, and everyone here is Asian and thus, obligatorily ignorant of the identity of this man.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, it's Elton John.

After consulting Tony over the phone, I stalk over and ask his cowboy henchman if he is "who I think he is." Cowboy Henchman coyly smiles and says, "maybe." I ask if he would mind taking a photo with me, because I'm polite like that, and Cowboy Henchman shakes his head in the negative.

We conversate briefly, I asking Elton if he's headed to Bali, he responding with, no, Kathmandu. A google search confirms it: his AIDS Foundation.



(He touched my back!)

This is the best vacation ever. I may as well get back on the BART and head home.