Worlds collide in an empty Atlanta hotel: the McDonald’s High School All-American Basketball and members of the world-famous Seattle band

It’s November, and I’m writing regularly – so far it’s been family history, Hoosier football and various basketball and running tales. Today a rock superstar gets his question answered.

April 1992. I was working on the McDonald’s High School All-American Basketball game in Atlanta — and the band Pearl Jam was about explode into superstardom. I was handling media relations for the McDonald’s game at a brand new Wyndham Hotel – so new, in fact, it hadn’t even opened to the public yet. The only occupants that week were our basketball contingent and the band and its entourage, in town for a show.

Pearl Jam had just delivered a blistering performance on Saturday Night Live the previous weekend, and “Jeremy” was climbing the charts. The band was riding that perfect wave where fame was arriving but hadn’t become overwhelming just yet.

Being basketball fans (especially Eddie Vedder), the band members would occasionally cross paths with our group in the lobby. These brief encounters created an oddly comfortable vibe in our otherwise empty hotel. The visual contrasts were almost comical – our towering players in matching McDonald’s warm-ups alongside various Seattle hipsters (crew/family members and occasionally, the band) in their vintage threads.

One evening, I was returning from a setup visit to Georgia Tech’s arena. Tired, I pressed the elevator call button, ready to head up to my fourth-floor room. Just as the doors opened, bassist Jeff Ament and his girlfriend slipped in, heading up to their top-floor suite.

We exchanged polite nods and assumed the universal elevator stance – everyone facing forward, watching the floor numbers tick by. Ament and his companion stood toward the back while I positioned myself near the doors.

Then something broke “elevator-ride protocol.” Ament began softly singing to his girlfriend, crooning a distinctive chorus from a ’70s rock classic:

“You’ve been talking in circles

Since I’ve been able to cry

There’s never been any reason

For ever telling me why

…Save my life I’m goin’ down for the last time”

As the elevator car rose, he paused and asked aloud, “Who was that? Who sang ‘Never Been Any Reason’?”

The doors opened at four, my floor. I turned back toward them, one foot already in the hallway, and announced with perhaps too much confidence: “Head East!”

His face lit up. “Yes! Head East! Thank you!!” he gestured enthusiastically from inside the car.

The doors were now sliding closed. I couldn’t resist — I leaned in slightly and delivered my parting line: 

“You’ll never see me again.”

As the doors sealed shut, I could hear them erupting with laughter on the other side, matching my own out in the hallway. My earthly mission to deliver this essential classic-rock trivia to a budding rock star was fulfilled.