I have met Tom Jones several times in America and the UK and have also seen him perform in Spain.
How I met Tom Jones.
Many years ago, I stayed with friends in Los Angeles, California, for a holiday. Whilst staying in their Anaheim home, I picked up a paper and found a special offer for a two-night stay in Las Vegas at the Luxor Hotel and for a ticket to see Tom Jones singing in Las Vegas. I decided to drive to Las Vegas, spend a few days looking around and watch the Tom Jones show.
Las Vegas.
On the evening of the show, I proudly put on my best pair of jeans and my Welsh rugby shirt and went down to the casino to find the show. I soon found it and quickly realised I was not dressed the part. Everybody else was dressed very nicely. All of the men were dressed in dinner jackets and looked very smart, whilst all of the ladies looked like millionaires and were dressed to impress. I was a bit worried that my denim jeans, Welsh rugby shirt and unshaven chin would be refused admission by the gorillas wearing penguin suits. Fortunately, they took my ticket and let me in, leading me to an oval table where the men and ladies were all sitting, looking as if they should be at a royal ball. Around 11 other people were sitting at the table, all American and all looking at me in disgust as I sat down. The waitress came round to me and told me that my ticket price included two complimentary cocktails. So I ordered two, and feeling that I would have some fun, I immediately began talking to the ladies on either side of me.
The two ladies told me they were Tom Jones’s biggest fans and knew everything there was to know about him. They commented that they loved my English accent and quickly told their husbands to buy me another cocktail whilst they spoke to me. During our conversation, one of them noticed that the laser show above us had the three feathers logo in it, the same as the one on my rugby shirt. I told them that my shirt was a Welsh rugby shirt and that the three feathers were a Welsh emblem. I told them that many of my family were from Wales, to which one of the ladies asked, “What part of England is Wales in”? I wondered how she could be the world’s biggest-ever Tom Jones fan, but I did not know that Wales was a country and not part of England.
Guessing that I would probably never see these people again, I decided to have some fun and proceeded to tell them that I was a good friend of Tom Jones and that I had flown over to see him in Vegas. I explained that although he was a good friend, I had never seen him in concert. The two ladies next to me lapped up my tall tales and made their husbands buy their new friend more drinks. The husbands never believed a word I said but did as they were told, listening to my stories of how Tom and I knew each other from the valleys around South Wales.
The concert started with Tom Jones singing two songs before welcoming everybody to the show and talking a little about the laser show of the three feather logo and the dragon that had been flying around the room before the show started. He told everybody they were associated with his beloved Wales, where he was born. He then welcomed a very good friend who had come over from Wales to see him. At that point, a spotlight came on from behind the stage and was aimed straight at me. Tom walked to the front of the stage, raised a pint of beer, and looked at me, saying, ‘Cheers, enjoy the show’. I knew this was a mistake and thought it was meant for someone behind me, but the ladies next to me all loved that Tom Jones’s friend was sitting with them. Their husbands were now starting to believe I knew Tom Jones. The show started again just as the cocktail waitress appeared with two pints in her hand. She leaned over, gave me both pints and told me that Tom had got them for me and that he would see me after the show. The husbands were now also believers, and I never bought a drink for the remainder of the show.
London.
Two years after seeing Tom Jones in Las Vegas, I was back home in England and saw that he would be in concert in a London park. I can’t remember which park it was being held in now, but I believe it was Hyde Park. I bought what I thought was a good seat and went up to London to stay with friends overnight and to see the show. Dressed again in my obligatory Welsh rugby shirt, I went from Walthamstow to the show. At the time, I was not walking well and had to use a stick to get about. When I got there, I was pleased to find that my seat was in a seating area with a bit more legroom right next to the stage. All around me were thousands of very avid screaming female fans, dancing and singing along throughout the entire concert, and when the concert finished, they all hung around screaming that they loved Tom Jones, hoping that he would come and see them.
I could not move to get out, and as I was in no hurry, I just sat back down to wait for them to disperse. A short while after the show finished, Tom Jones came down to see all of the women who had been waiting to see him; he signed autographs and posed for photos. As the last of them left the arena, I could now get out of the aisle I was in and began to walk towards the exit.
Although all of the women had been ushered out by security after getting their photo and meeting Tom, he stayed exactly where he was at the end of the aisle, and as I got next to him, I stuck my hand out, shook his hand and told him that I had enjoyed the show. He thanked me for my comment, and I told him I had seen him before. I said, ‘I know you get asked this all the time, but do you remember’. Before I could finish my sentence, he replied, ‘Las Vegas, two years ago, did you get the two beers I sent you’. I could not believe that he remembered the event, and I asked him how he remembered it. He told me that because I had a Wales rugby shirt on in Las Vegas, I had stuck out like a sore thumb from all the people in suits and dressed up. He had also noticed the large scar on my forehead and thought it would make a good story for me, so he sent me the beer. He then continued by saying that he had seen me from the stage tonight and wanted to see if I was the same person and to see how I was. We chatted about my story from Las Vegas, and he shook my hand again before telling me he was glad I enjoyed the show and left.
Although I have been to see him again a few times in Orlando, Florida, and in Murcia, where I now live, in Spain, I have never met him again, but whatever you think of Tom Jones, he will always be a true legend.