The peaceful sound of an acoustic guitar woke me up on the last morning of the tour. I practically jumped out of the giant hotel bed and quickly stretched out my arms before going to see David who was sitting on the floor playing his guitar.

I could not wait to go back home. I was tired of sleeping in a different bed every night and going through the same routine throughout the days. I guess that touring really just wasn’t for me.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that George Harrison was playing his guitar for me” I laughed and took a seat on the couch. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t.”

He laughed and continued to play the famous riff from ‘Here Comes The Sun’. “But you’re David Gilmour, so I can settle with that” I added with a wink.

“You seem in a good mood” he noticed.

“I can’t wait to go home!”

“I can’t wait to move in with you, and then you’ll be stuck with me forever” he laughed.

I crawled onto the floor and kissed him on his lips. “Oh, isn’t that a drag?” I joked.

He lifted his guitar out of the way and motioned for me to sit on his lap. He put the guitar over the both of us and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Go ahead, play” he told me.

“David, I only know 5 chords.”

“I’m waiting” he teased.

I sighed and placed my fingers on the strings just hard enough to make the note clear. But even then, I failed miserably.

“This. This is why I don’t play that often” I laughed.

“Well the only way you can get better is if you practice!” He positioned my fingers and applied pressure to it, making the chord sound perfect.

He lifted his fingers off mine and I strummed away at a C chord before swiftly changing to a G.

“Look at that, it’s the new Jimmy Page!” he chuckled.

“Not even close!” I moved the guitar out of the way so I could stand up.

After taking a shower, I got dressed into a tight colourful dress and dried my hair into the perfect amount of volume that it needed. David and I headed down to the hotel restaurant where the rest of the band was sitting, and pulled up a chair with them.

“Finally done touring for a while” Rick cheered. I guess he was really excited to go home to his wife.

“I have a show to do with Syd in a few weeks” David told them.

They all looked around awkwardly as they had nothing to say. I watched Roger closely; I knew that it affected him the most. Syd was his best friend, after all.

I’ve only been around Syd Barrett 3 times. I met him just after David and I started dating because that was when they finally announced Syd’s departure from the band. Then, I saw him two other times when David was helping him with his solo album.

He was very interesting to me. I knew about his history and why he ended up the way he did, but he was so much more than just an acid casualty.

He was so charming, hilarious, and he generally gave off positive vibes. He had this bright atmosphere around him when he wasn’t under the influence of drugs. He is such a talented musician, artist, and poet in every aspect.

“I’ve got lots of new material for the new album” Roger started.

The band began to discuss matters involving their music as I somewhat listened. I tended not to get myself too involved with the actual recording and production of it, and honestly, I wanted each album to be surprise for me. I was a fan of them too, coincidently enough.

I think what I’ll miss the most about the band’s pre-fame, was being able to walk down the streets without fans running at them. David and I managed to get into the car just in time after we left the hotel. The driver put our luggage in the back and closed the trunk before getting back in to drive off.

David and I intertwined our fingers as I looked out the window at the city of New Orleans. Out of all the places we went, this was probably my favourite.

“Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday, who could hang a name on you? When you change with every new day, still I’m going to miss you…”

David sang along to the classic Rolling Stones tune as it played on the radio. I loved the sound of his voice; it was so soothing to me. I opened the window just a crack and rested my head on his shoulder.

When we made it to The Warehouse in which the band was preforming at, we were all escorted through the building and to the dressing rooms. I looked at everyone around me, and luckily I saw no groupies. I grew a general hatred towards them.

“David!” I tugged on his shirt. “Look at that guy!”

He looked around and spotted out the guy I was directing him to. “What about him?”

“He looks like my father.”

He pulled me in close to him. “Yeah, just a little bit. But I’m sure it’s not him.”

I knew that it wasn’t my father. It was a reoccurring dream of mine to find him after he unexpectedly left my mom a few years ago… no one knows why. I guess that’s what I resented the most about my childhood; I didn’t spend enough time with him. But then again, I never expected my father to get up and walk out.

For the last time, I watched the band play from the side of the stage. It was a long, tiring tour and I couldn’t wait to get on that plane back to my home country. Their manager, Steve O’Rourke, stood beside me as we watched the amazing gig. They were just an amazing band.

Before they started their final song, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around and was face to face with a stranger.

“Hello?”

The man grabbed my hand and opened up my palm. He dropped a couple white cubes onto my open hand and stared at me.

“Sugar cubes?” I questioned confusingly.

He laughed, “No, this is acid.”

“Oh…” I looked down at my hand and closed it.

“Have fun” he winked and walked off.

The backstage area flooded as the band walked off. I slipped the drugs into my pocket just before David grabbed my hand and pulled me towards his dressing room.

“The last American party is tonight, are you excited?” he kissed me.

“Can’t wait” I ran my fingers along the cubes in my pocket.