I was 20, home from college washing dishes at the Longhorn Ranch in Concordville, Pa.
During the dinner hour word got out that The King had passed from this world.
The steak house moaned to a halt as the entire posse of young middle-aged cowgirl waitresses wept all over their naugahyde vests. A few fainted.
The managers all freaked out.
Five years later Warren Zevon wrote