Seinfeld rules about dating elaine
“I always try to go out with North Shore girls,” he likes to say. He played anyway—Rachmaninoff, on the living-room grand, a move he got from “The Seven Year Itch.” She says, “It was like he couldn’t not be ‘Billy Joel’ at that moment.” “I may have got a little fresh,” he recalls. He retrieved a padded envelope with allergy medication and stuck it into a small black wheelie bag containing throat spray and some motorcycle magazines for his longtime lighting man and fellow-gearhead, Steve Cohen. “And now we’re over the great gray ash heaps,” Joel said, still on “Gatsby” and referring to the once blighted section of Queens. It’s been busted down to ‘Private Jack.’ ”) But this time Cohen and Brian Ruggles, Joel’s sound engineer since the early seventies, prevailed.“They usually have a car.” She drove him back to Centre Island. She drove off that night, but months later they began seeing each other. Outside the kitchen, he tossed the bag in the back of a Polaris U. Cemeteries, row houses, projects: the copter tacked southwest over Brooklyn and aimed for Manhattan’s lower tip, towers sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. ” “There won’t be a dry eye in the house,” the saxophonist Mark Rivera said. (He’d wanted to leave it off the album, too, but Linda Ronstadt and Phoebe Snow, dropping by the studio one day, told him he was nuts.) He usually won these arguments. A few hours later, the arena was full, and he was back onstage with the band, delivering the familiar hits in full voice. The cynicism surfaced only between numbers, such as when, after playing “The Entertainer,” he repeated, in a quizzical tone, the line “I won’t be here in another year / If I don’t stay on the charts” and then exclaimed, “Bullshit!She moved in with him, and he persuaded her to quit her job on Wall Street. “This is the beginning of the psych-up for the show,” Joel said. At other sound checks, I’d seen him scrap such mainstays as “Angry Young Man” (the tempo was lagging, and the sentiment felt false) and “Captain Jack.” (“Dreary, dreary, dreary,” he said. ” A roar greeted the opening notes of “Just the Way You Are,” and up in Section 106 I could see some women of a certain age singing along and dabbing their eyes.
They met five years ago at a restaurant in Huntington, where they’d both gone with friends. Along the way, he passed Roderick, who was on foot. Within moments, it was soaring across the bay and over the wooded estates of Nassau County.
He introduced himself, got her number, and, when he was done eating, called her on the phone from across the restaurant and asked if she would give him a ride home. Joel name-checked harbors, parkways, and golf courses, some of which he’d caddied at as a kid. To the north, Kings Point and Sands Point, Fitzgerald’s models for West Egg and East Egg.
Whenever anyone asks him about his pre-show routine, he says, “I walk from the dressing room to the stage.
That’s my routine.” Joel has a knack for delivering his own recycled quips and explanations as though they were fresh, a talent related, one would think, to that of singing well-worn hits with sincere-seeming gusto.
Still, a girl across the street said he’d grow horns, and a neighborhood kid named Vinny told him, “Yo, Joel, you killed Jesus. He called through the screen door leading to the kitchen: “A-Rod!