Mark Drake

So I was home last night making dinner. Just as I was pulling the delectable frozen pizza from the oven my daughter called. She said she and her boyfriend were at Bryant Lake Bowl (a local bowling alley here in Minneapolis). They were 90% certain that Robert Plant was there bowling. At first I scoffed. But she insisted and as we talked her boyfriend chimed in that he was positive that indeed it was Mr Robert Plant. My heart raced. Led Zeppelin was the first band I obsessed over. The first vinyl I bought was Led Zeppelin III. A couple years later it was the same album I chose as my first CD purchase in 1989. They were foundational in my life and inspired my love of great music. So I abandoned my dinner and took off in my truck to get there and possibly *fingers crossed* snag a picture with Mr Plant. Along the way my daughter called, warning me to hurry as it looked like Mr Plant and his entourage were getting ready to leave. I floored it. I scored a parking spot right on Lake Street in front of Bryant Lake Bowl. Yes! I calmly raced into the bowling alley and found that my daughter and her boyfriend with 2 lanes down from Mr Plant. They warned me that Plant's manager was preventing anyone from approaching Mr Plant. But I knew I had to try. This was Robert friggin Plant, after all. How could I find myself so close to someone so foundational to my life and not try to at least express my gratitude for him and the music he created? So I calmly approached Mr Plant. His manager obstructed me, shaking his head, "No, mate". I pleaded, "I just need to tell him how much his music has meant to me." "No, mate" his manager said again while shaking his head. I could tell I wasn't going to get anywhere and ultimately I chose to respect his boundaries and move on. I bowled a few rounds with my daughter (with Mr Plant a couple lanes over - and bowling better than me, I might add!), downed my beer and headed home. I woke up this morning to this picture. It turns out my daughter's boyfriend (who plays in a bluegrass band here in the Twin Cities) struck up a conversation with Mr Plant's bandmates. They spoke for over an hour. Just as Mr Plant and his entourage were getting up to leave my daughter's boyfriend tried to ask for a picture. The manager re-buffed him. But, Mr Plant shrugged him off and motioned them over for a photo. So this is them, with Mr Plant posing with their leftover nachos. I wish I was there but it warms my heart that my daughter got to meet a living musical legend. – at Richfield, MN