Congratulations on Catching Geddy Lee!

You’re going to be the head of Interpol one day but long ago, just like the rest of us, you used to be someone else. You used to be a little girl who loved Rush. But that won’t be the way of things soon. Soon you’ll be leading a manhunt for international superstar turned bank robber Geddy Lee, and you’re going to need all of your Rush fandom and crime solving acumen to beat him.

Your break will come one dark evening as you drink alone in a Cork bar, not far from the docks. It’ll have some aggressive generic Irish name, like Murphy’s or O’Reilly’s or something. It’ll be next to the River Lee, but inside you could be anywhere, any place. The dim lights and comforting taps would make it a perfect ex-pat bar, but the locals have never given it up and even as you sit and sip quietly by yourself they’ll shoot you dirty looks.

The only break in their derision will come when the entertainment plays. That night they’ll be taking a break from Scorpions and Eagles cover bands to host something a little more cultured: a Rush cover band. You’ll smile into your five Euro Coors each time they play one of your youthful favorites. But it will quickly become apparent that they don’t know too many songs, even though they’re a professional cover band. And after the third rendition of Tom Sawyer the crowd will grow restless.

The band, sensing that they’re three songs from having bottles hurled at them, will take a brief break and when they disseminate into the crowd to grab their free drinks and try to hit on some of the less time-ravaged locals the lead singer will be approached by a bearded man of slight build with slightly efite features. He’ll carry himself with a masculine air but you know that with a little bit of rouge and some swagger in his hips he’d be one hell of a drag queen.

You won’t be able to hear a word of their exchange but you’ll get the drift and when the band comes back up to play the bearded man will be leading them. He’ll take the microphone in hand like he’s addressing a stadium, poised for some Superbowl grade crowd treatment, but one look around the room and he’ll think better of it. He’ll turn around, nod to the band and they’ll start up into Limelight.

The singer’s voice will hit you sharp and swift, right between your ribs and your abdomen. Breathing will take too much effort and you’ll be unable to stare as you suddenly see what the singer would look like without his beard.

He’d be Geddy Lee.

His voice will rattle through the bars of Limelight with practiced precision and none of the tiredness that the cover band seemed to carry. It’ll be like each song is a creative celebration of Rush and their revolutionary rock anthems. When they play Tom Sawyer again the crowd will cheer, except for the lead singer who will be biting his lip and shaking his head, clearly jealous, clearly thrilled that he finally met his idol.

You’ll be enthralled. Despite your lifelong fandom this will be your first real Rush concert. You’ll have watched many a performance while tracking your prey but the recordings never captured the raw power of the man in close quarters. It’ll be hard not to strip off your clothes and offer yourself to him then, badge and all.

When the band takes a bathroom break you’ll feel like you’ve awoken from a deep slumber. The bar will come into focus around you again and you’ll notice that Geddy has been gone a long while. You’ll pull out your handcuffs and step through the narrow passage into the Men’s room at the back of the bar, to the knowing smirks of a few of the more observant regulars.

Geddy Lee will have his back turned when you enter. He’ll be pissing into a urinal. He won’t be humming, but something about how he holds himself will communicate just how free this performance has made him. You’ll stand there, handcuffs in hand, watching to see what he does next. What you do next.

His wrists will look so thin and so frail, his hips so rich and full. Lord only knows what you’ll do next.

Coongratulations on Catching Geddy Lee!