Bob Dylan was nice! He talked a lot. And I wasn't even paying attention to some of the things he was saying because in my head I was wondering, "What am I going to tell the hospital, what am I going to tell my supervisor?" He's just blabbering in the back. I actually remember he said, "Just take me over there, I'll give you tickets to my show, you can see me play." I remember he said that. And I thought, this guy is crazy.
He wasn't in trouble. There wasn't any chance of him being arrested. It was just a suspicious thing. There was no chance of him going to jail or anything. He probably knew that. I mean, if he couldn't tell me where those buses were he might have been in the hospital — I would have had to have made some phone calls.
As soon we got to the hotel, and I pulled the police car in, I was thinking, let me check this out. Maybe it's just a coincidence, there's just buses here, they're not for him. And his manager came running out to us and flipped out. Being a total jerk. He grabbed Bob out of the car and said, "Don't talk to them anymore, come with me." I was like, "Sorry! Sorry, Bob!" — for my Dad, a fan. "I didn't mean to not believe you." I couldn't talk to him anymore, because the manager wouldn't let me have anything to do with him.
I don't even know how it got out. The police department all joked and laughed and made fun of me for weeks, but none of the cops told a newspaper or anything. It didn't even come out till a few months later. I was like, "That shit happened months ago."
I wanted to have a normal conversation with him, after. I wanted to say, "Manager, just step away from him for one minute, just let me talk to him for one minute, I promise I don't want anything from him, I don't want to bother him. I just want to have a conversation with him where I don't think he's a crazy person."