That time I shared a drink with (half of) Queen
The year was 1986. The air in Brussels was still electric, vibrating with the aftershocks of Queen’s Magic Tour. No one knew it back then, but this would be the last tour Queen would ever perform with the original four members. I was 22 years old, fueled by adrenaline and a decade of fandom, steering my car toward the Hyatt Regency.
I wasn't a stranger to the chase. Having crossed paths a few times with the band in ’82 and ’84, I knew the unspoken rules of the game. To see the gods, you don't break down the doors; you walk through them like you own the place.
The Art of the "Stay Cool"
My girlfriend and I bypassed the lobby chaos, nodding to the bellhops with the practiced ease of regular guests. We slipped directly into the hotel bar, ordered an affordable soft drink, and waited. The strategy was simple: blend into the shadows and hope for a nightcap.
Then, they arrived.
Freddie and Brian vanished toward their suites, likely seeking the sanctuary of sleep. But Roger Taylor and John Deacon weren’t done with the night. In the silence of the late hour, the circus had vanished. No record execs, no frantic promoters, no wall of security. Just us, the dim amber lights of the bar, and half of the greatest rock band on the planet.
A Whiskey with Roger
I approached Roger first, clutching my copies of his solo records, Fun In Space and Strange Frontier. "Would you mind signing these?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from betraying the "frenzied fan" screaming inside my head.
He didn't just sign them. He looked me in the eye and said, "Wait a moment." He walked to the bar, turned back, and asked what we were drinking (my girlfiend and I). Stunned, I blurted out the first "adult" thing I could think of: "Whiskey and coke." I barely touched alcohol back then, but you don't order an apple juice when Roger Taylor is buying.
"Let’s sit," he suggested, gesturing to his table. "It’ll be easier to sign them there". Before the pen touched the sleeve, he grilled me. "What do you actually think of these two albums?" I didn't give him the sycophantic fan answer. I told him I loved his vocal grit. I told him that, beyond Queen's global anthems, "Tenement Funster" was my favorite track. He flashed that famous Taylor grin.
The Quiet Man Joins the Table
Then, the "Great Gambler" himself *, John Deacon, slid into the seat next to us. Suddenly, it was the four of us (with my girlfriend), just chatting. John was soft-spoken and curious, asking where we were from and how long we’d been following the band.
I decided to take a risk. I told John that I played bass in a Metal Band and that I’d picked up the bass because of him, specifically because of the Bohemian Rhapsody video. "You looked so taciturn, so moody," I told him. "I thought I looked like you, and I felt like we had the same temperament." John burst into a genuine, loud laugh. The ice didn't just melt; it evaporated.
Gods and Equals
For a moment in that bar, the hierarchy vanished. I felt like an equal, a peer sharing a late-night drink. I was so desperate to maintain that respect, to not break the spell, that I only took that one single photo while Roger was signing. I didn't want to be the guy with the flashing camera; I wanted to be the guy at the table.
At the time, my musical taste had shifted toward the heavy roar of Metal (Iron Maiden, Metallica and even Slayer) but that night changed everything. You can try to outgrow your heroes, but when you're sitting across from them in the quiet of a Brussels night, you realize they aren't just rock stars. They’re the architects of your own history.
We went back home and put their records back on the turntable the very next morning. They were "gods" once more. Five years later, they’d prove it one last time with the masterpiece that was INNUENDO.
- While John Deacon is famously known as "The Quiet One" of Queen, the nickname "The Great Gambler" was a playful title used within the band's inner circle and by die-hard fans during the mid-80s.
- John wasn't just the bass player; he was the band’s financial mastermind. He managed the books and had a legendary "nose" for what would be a hit. He "gambled" on a funk-driven sound for "Another One Bites the Dust", a huge departure for a rock band, and it became their biggest-selling physical single of all time.
- During the 1984/1985 era (specifically around the time of The Works album), John adopted a very specific look: slicked-back hair, sharp suits, and a cool, detached demeanor that fans felt resembled a high-stakes professional gambler in a casino. The photo that I took, proves this last point.
