Another story (quite long, I'm afraid) about how we met Vaclav Havel, who died recently, through our interest in popular music.
A few years back, my wife and I were in Prague for a short city break. I had gone there in 1995 to attend three Bob Dylan concerts (I only managed two but that's another story) and had stayed in a hotel overlooking the venue. It was not in the city centre but adjacent to a metro station. We decided to stay in the same location, though a different hotel. On the first morning, we took the metro into the city and, as we were walking around, we saw an advert for a Suzanne Vega concert the next day in the same venue in which I'd seen Dylan (right next to our hotel). It was a coincidence that we saw the advert, because it was one of those digital ones where the advert changes constantly. We tried to get tickets in town but failed and the ticket agence suggested we try the venue, which we did when we returned to our hotel. As it happens, there was nothing on at the venue that night and it was closed up - second coincidence! On getting to the hotel, I asked about getting tickets and they said to try the venue in the morning and that it opened at 10 o'clock. We said we couldn't do that because we had booked a city tour, starting in the city centre early on the following morning - third coincidence! The reception staff said that was a shame because Miss Vega was staying in our hotel - fourth coincidence! I decided to write a note and to leave it at reception. I explained the circumstances and stressed that we were not looking for freebies but would be keen to attend the show. I left the note at reception the next day, set off for our city tour and, after a spot of lunch and a bit of shopping, we returned to our hotel. There was no message for us. Some time later, we got a call. It was the American tour manager saying that he'd seen our note and had arranged for two tickets to be left for us, though he couldn't say where we would be seated. I thanked him profusely, asked about paying and he said they were guest tickets - and to make sure to seek him out after the concert. We got ready, shot off to the venue and found the seats were almost at the back of the balcony. Beggars can't be choosers but, on my previous visit to the venue, I'd been in Row 2 at the front, so it was a contrast but the sound was good and we enjoyed the show. Afterwards, we fought against the flow of the outgoing audience and met up with the American tour manager. We thanked him again, said how much we'd enjoyed the show and he introduced to his assistant - a Brit from Brighton. He joshed us about being cheapskates and I said we'd been prepared to pay. He said, "We know but we appreciated your initiative". We all parted and, as we left, we were handed a flyer for an after-show party. We enquired about it and were told it was basically going to a nearby discotheque (that is, not really an after-show party but a commercial enterprise advertising itself). Being tired from the day's outing followed by the concert, we declined - fifth coincidence! Back at our hotel, we decided on a night-cap, only to find that the bar (and the restaurant) were closed for a private function - sixth coincidence! We could, however, get served drinks in the lobby, which was pretty full, so we ended up sitting fairly close to the main doors - seventh coincidence! As we were sipping our drinks, we noticed the American tour manager come in and speak to the reception desk (not a surprise, I suppose, as the tour party members were staying there). As he was about to leave, he saw us, came over and invited us to the aftershow party. We said we had already declined the offer. He said, "No, this is the real aftershow party". We downed our drinks and off we went. We got our wristbands and sailed in, through the discotheque into a very large back room, with a free bar and lots of food. We met up with the British assistant who introduced us to some English-speaking people (translators, local agents and so on). and we had a great time. The Brit pointed out Suzanne Vega, sitting on a couch, and said she was talking to Vaclav Havel, who we couldn't really see. Anyway, some time later, Vaclav Havel (and his security) got up to leave and, as he was about to pass us, he turned to the British guy, whom he'd evidently met earlier, to shake his hand and say goodbye. I slipped in behind the Brit and extended my hand, which Havel shook, and I said it was an honour to meet him. My wife, taking her cue from me, slipped in behind me and also got to shake Havel's hand. So, there, we have both met Vaclav Havel! And all based on a series of coincidences; if any one had been absent, none of that would have happened.
There was no chance for a photograph but we did have our picture taken with Suzanne Vega later.