I spent decades just missing Hunter Thompson. Back in '79 or '80 I was in a funky Sausalito breakfast joint, I forget the name... over by the houseboats... waiting for Mike Stepanian. We were going to drive over to Richmond together, where he would defend me on a measly little pot bust.
I waited and waited. No Stepanian. Being nervous and naieve about these things, this being my first brush with the law and all, I panicked and drove to court by myself.
My defense? My lawyer didn't show up. Who's your lawyer? Mike Stepanian. The judge's reaction was something along the lines of "Well, no wonder."
Later on, Stepanian chewed me out royally for being such a weenie: You have to trust your lawyer! You think I don't know what I'm doing? You don't trust me? What were you thinking, going to court by yourself? If I tell you to wait, you wait...
And where was the famous drug attorney while I was waiting? While I was taking my legal life into my own hands?
On the other side of Sausalito, hanging out with one Hunter S. Thompson.