It was 1986, a cold December night in Cleveland Ohio. I had just finished up a gig at Hilarities Comedy Club. When I got into the lobby of the hotel I accidentally dropped my full box of props onto the floor causing everything to spill out. The box was actually an old black Yamaha trumpet suitcase, from my old music days that I had gutted, and now used for my new act.

Tired, cursing and mumbling to myself, I knelt down on the cold marble floor of the hotel, and while on my hands and knees began picking up my stuff. As I was putting things back, one by one, I noticed something or someone standing to my right, actually this huge black leather cape swinging back and forth ever so slightly. Under that cape was a pair of black thick alligator boots with gold trim that ran around the heels. The tips of the boots were pointed and were also covered in gold.

I stopped what I was doing and slowly looked up. When I did, I caught a lump in my throat. The man in the floating cape standing over me was no other than trumpeter Miles Davis. He looked at me with steel eyes. His hair was short and his face pitched black over bony cheeks.

There was a moment of silence between us, then he spoke.

To be continued...