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Brian's First love
By Brian Brannon
Reprinted from Ben Is Dead Magazine (R.I.P.)

It was a swirling psychedelic night torn from the pages of my turbulent adolescence. I remember our drummer Bam-Bam telling me that there was someone there he wanted me to meet. The location was the Galaxy roller rink in Fullerton, California, and our band was set to play that night with The Mau-Maus, Social Distortion, The Angry Samoans and assorted local heroes. The year was 1983.

Bam had a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he ushered me through the beginnings of what looked to be a solid night of slam & dive activity. Hordes of lurkers were slinking about in gathering droves. You could feel the energy in the air that was destined to arc across the dancefloor.

I was wearing my wingtips, black pin-striped pants and a paisley polyester shirt. In my hand I held a Djarum Super. As a member of the International Clove Brotherhood, I reserved the brown-skinned Djarum Specials only for special occasions. Had I known what was about to happen I would have had a pack with me.

"Brian, I want you to meet Jodie Foster," said Bam. "Jodie, Brian."

I just about fell over myself right there.

I couldn't believe it. She was beautiful, just like in the movies. Right in front of me, wearing a plaid skirt and a sweater, was my number one favorite actress of all time. The one for whom I reserved my most special affection. My darling, my loveŠ Jodie Foster in the flesh. How was I going to maintain my cool in front of the woman of my adoration?

Somehow I managed to mingle and make small talk for a while, and then, in a flash of genius, suggested we walk around, thereby freeing ourselves from trivial interuptions so we could continue to explore our personalities in conversation.

We milled through the gathering punkers and I marveled at her knowledge of the local scene. At one point I found my hand slipping into hers and I remember thinking, "I can't believe this! I'm holding Jodie Foster's hand!"

A warmth and a bond developed between us. We talked and laughed and pretty soon it was time for the band to play. She stopped and tied a piece of tinsel around one of my curls and gave me a short, sweet kiss. I was in heaven.

JFA hit the stage and I remember jumping off one of the upper levels into the crowd and being hoisted back up again. There was a picture taken of me coming up that graced the back of our Valley of the Yakes LP, with that tinsel tied in my hair.

At some point about midway through our set, I stopped the band and told everyone I had an announcement, that there was a very special person I wanted to introduce to the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, "Jodie Foster."

She stepped out onto the stage and the whole crowd just shut the fuck up. They stood in awe, showing her the respect she deserved.

Our next number was "Jodie Foster's Army," and, of course, it was dedicated to her.

After our set I made a beeline into find her. And there she was, waiting for me with a hug and a kiss. A slow, long, deep, passionate kiss. A kiss to build a dream on. A frozen in time kiss that made my toes tingle and my mind reel. A kiss that found us pulling each other closer. I couldn't believe I was kissing Jodie Foster.

We made our way away from the bustle and sought the comfort of the Big Green Bus. There we laughed and kissed and generally ignored everybody else while becoming more into each other with each passing breath.

By some miracle I talked her into crashing with us at Don's parent's, and we laughed and joked and were feeling alright all the way over.

We soon found ourselves eating Don's mom's world-famous bean dip, sandwiches and cinnamon rolls with orange icing, all washed down with an icy cold Coke. Truly some of the finer things in life.

Jodie seemed to appreciate them too. But soon we found ourselves alone in an extra room with the door closed and the lights out and our two bodies grinding in persistent unison. The friction made us feverish and we pulled at each other with a burning longing that continued to grow.

When we finally made love it was like Love American Style-fireworks going off in the sky. Just boom-boom-boom, mind-blowing cosmic convergence. The ceiling melted and reality blurred for that split second of time in our seemingly endless microcosm.

The next morning we had cinnamon rolls with orange icing and ice cold Cokes, not because that was all there was to choose from, but because that was what we wanted. And it was good.

After the Big Green Bus dropped Jodie off where she lived in Fullerton, our manager Tony Victor motioned me up to the front of the bus and said, "Brian, I hope you know that wasn't Jodie Foster."

I was aghast.

Somewhere deep inside I knew what he was saying to be true but I didn't want to believe it.

I refused.

I refused to admit I refused. But deep inside I knew it was true.

I saw her again the very next night when we played the Olympic Auditorium in LA with The Addicts and Peter & The Test Tube Babies. As I looked out at the swirling mass of hand-to-hand slamming on the dancefloor I saw the bodies transform into a human whirlpool. I knew it was no place to be if I wanted to spend time with Jodie after the set. If I went into that, I might not come out.

After the gig we hung out together and she asked if I knew that she really wasn't Jodie Foster. I sheepishly replied that I did.

I told her it didn't matter at all and continued to call her Jodie anyway. It was our private little joke.

Though I lived in Phoenix and she in Fullerton, we saw each other as much as two kids with no cars could under those circumstances. Eventually the calls and letters began to fade but I knew we would always maintain a bond.

I called her a few years ago and found out she had a couple of kids and still lived in the same area. I sincerely hope everything works out in her life the way she wants.

When I look back on those times I remember a sweet little girl and the way she could make me smile. She may not have been Jodie Foster, but considering all the fun we had together, she was good enough for me.