Confession time: I'm sorry that I stalked one of Prince's dancers

We all have things in our lives we're not proud of. Alcohol-induced mayhem, mullets, obsessive allegiance to sub-par musical acts, etc.

I've got my share, too. And as I watched a documentary last night of one of my favorite artists, Prince, I saw the image of a familiar woman flash on the screen.


The music world knew her for a few years simply as "Cat." Her full name is Cat Glover. She entered Prince's on-stage entourage about the time his "Sign 'O the Times" album came out. She was a sleek dancer, dressed in spandex, flashy, beautiful -- you would expect no less from Prince, right?


She is one of the things I'm not real proud of. I'll explain, but first, context.


If you've ever heard the song "Alphabet Street," you've heard her voice. Cat's the one who does that silly rap at the end, the one prefaced by Prince's iconic chant, "Cat, we need you to rap!" And if you've seen Prince's "U Got the Look" video, you've seen Cat demonstrate the move that is now standard fare for any hip-hop dancer, the "Cat Scat." I won't try and describe it, because I'll just embarrass myself. You'd know it if you saw it. Google it. Better yet, watch it here. (Cat Scat begins at about the 2-minute mark.)

Anyhow ...


My buddy Jay Mohrlant and I had a rather embarrassing phase. Having nothing better to do, we spent an absurd amount of time driving from our homes on the east side of St. Paul to Prince's Paisley Park Studios. If you're unaware of the geographic implications here, it's roughly an hour's drive. Why? We wanted to catch a glimpse of Prince. He was the most important musician in the world at the time and he lived just down the road, relatively speaking. Jay, actually, did have some luck getting in with the movers and shakers of the Minneapolis music scene. You see, Jay wanted to be a body guard, so he did what he could to get them to notice his considerable girth and muscle power (I was the brains of the operation ... or, at least that's what I told myself. In reality, I'm not sure I've ever been the brains of any operation where other humans are involved.) He actually got a gig one time. He'd bugged Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis at Flyte Tyme Productions so much that they called him up for a little extra muscle when Janet Jackson was in town to record one of her albums. She wanted to take a break from recording and go see the Sounds of Blackness at the Ordway Theater. I went, too, just to bear witness to his "big break." It was my one and only time speaking to Miss Jackson. I looked at her and said, "Hey ..." to which she not-so-politely looked me up and down, recognized me for the white trash that I was, and turned away without returning my greeting.


But I digress ...


Our visits to Paisley Park were frequent. A little too frequent. Once, to avoid appearing creepy, we pretended to be a up-and-coming band and asked them for a tour. To our shock and horror, they obliged, and for a few exciting minutes, we thought we'd get to see the studio where all the purple magic happened. But alas, the tour was short. They showed us a studio, but not the studio where Prince worked.


So we continued to drive there and hang out, just waiting for our chance to see Prince. He was so mysterious. Such an enigma. How cool would it be to see him? Talk to him?


Well, we never got that chance. But we got a chance to see a member of his crew.


The day Cat walked out was a day I'll never forget. Not because we were smitten with her beauty (although, she was quite striking.) But because finally, after so many days parked outside that big white building in Chanhassan, we finally saw someone who was famous. We were embarrassingly excited. So what did we do? The only thing two 18-year-old idiots knew how to do: We followed her.


But we didn't just follow her. We refused to let her get away. We ran red lights, we passed cars illegally, we drove way, way beyond the 55 mph speed limit. We hopped curbs. We kept her car in view the entire time. And please know I understand fully how utterly ridiculous this sounds. Remember, this is about a confession, and an apology.


We followed her to her residence where it looked to us like she was hurrying to get away. And then we stopped.


"I wonder if she's scared," I said to Jay. Or, at least, that's what I remember saying to Jay.


"Yeah," he replied.


We sat there in silence like the losers we were. We'd just stalked a dancer in Prince's entourage. Stalked her as if she were Prince. Drove dangerously. Put others at risk. Just writing this all down for the first time, it sounds even more ridiculous than the many times I've told the story.


So, Cat Glover, I don't know where you are today or what you're doing. I saw a few YouTube videos of you when I was trying to find you today. But nothing definitive. You'll probably never see this. But if you do: I'm so, so sorry.