Yesterday I left my coveted Abbey Road poster in a bathroom at LaGuardia Airport. It was devastating.
The Beatles and I have been through so much together over the past few years--from apartment to storage unit to apartment again and again and again. I remember the time we had to hold the poster in our hands out a car window because it wouldn't fit inside. I remember retrieving it from the side of the road when it flew away. I remember my poor nephews holding it up over their heads in a van so it wouldn't crush them. And, of course, I remember the thousands of times the foursome greeted me at the bottom of the stairs in The Colony.
Earlier this year I finally got around to stripping the cardboard backing off, peeling off all the tape, and rolling it up so I could take it to New York. So excited was I to hang the masterpiece up in my new Harlem bedroom.
But after making it all the way across the United States my poster has found a new owner. In the time it took me to get a gate pass and make it through an extra round of security it had already been lifted.
To me the event was more tragic than I'd like to admit, but I take comfort in knowing that I have shared the magic of the Beatles with another fan. Maybe this is what John meant when he wrote "Come Together."