Whoo-Hooo! First day off of the tour. We're at the Hyatt in downtown Phoenix, about 2 blocks from tomorrow's venue. I wake up just outside of town. Ten minutes later I'm jumping off the bus to check everyone in. Make it up to my room, grab a shower, and I'm in front of the TV in time for The Brickyard 400, today's NASCAR race which they're running at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.
I've got a coupla slice of pizza leftover from last night's aftershow bus food. Papa John's with jalapeno & pineapple – my favorite.
Fucking 23 car! Idiot Mike Skinner gets in the back of Dale, Jr. on a restart and puts him into the wall totaling his car. Junior finishes dead last, pretty much eliminating any chance he might have had to get into the top 10 in this years points race.
Don't have much interest in the race now, so I knock out the Sunday paper while sorta-kinda listening to it in the background. Watch the last 30 laps or so. Tony Stewart wins – good for him. I like Tony. He's an ill-tempered, hard-headed, whisky-drinking, photographer-punching son of a gun. One of the few guys left in this sport with a little bit of Earnhardt in him.
Do some work and then decide to take a walk around to see what's here. Find a Hooters 2 blocks away, so I go back to grab Za (guitar tech). Hit the Hooters for some Buffalo shrimp and a couple of beers, then we're back to the hotel's bar for more beers and shots. Against my better judgement, I decide to slap back some Petron tequila. This will turn out to be a big mistake, I suspect.
We're hanging with Dino (System merch dude) and Mike (Mars Volta merch dude). Mike's got some girl who's coming to pick him up. They're going to the Martini Ranch in Scottsdale to see some 80's metal cover band called Metalhead. His friend says they're unbelievably good. Her comments make me wonder if it's my buddy Robert Mason's band. Robert was the last of 3 singers in Cry Of Love, a band I tour managed from 1990 until 1997.
I give Robert a quick call and sure enough he's at the M.R. getting ready for the show. We haul ass over there and get in the door about 10 minutes before they go on at 10pm. Robert's decked out in a long blonde wig and wearing some mirror-lensed aviator sunglasses, bearing more than a passing resemblance to Axl Rose. He's lost a few pounds since I last saw him – he's completely ripped – looks like a full on rock star. He's taking major hits from a bottle of Stoli vodka onstage. Of course, it's only water, but the audience doesn't know it. All part of the show, ya know? The band totally kicks ass. They all look like 80's metalheads, and they're great players. They're using a fair amount of backing tracks for extra guitars, keyboards and backing vocals. It sounds amazing, just like the records. They play Warrant, Poison, Motley Crue, Def Leppard, Whitesnake and more. The club is packed to the rafters and everyone's having a great time. Robert says they play this place every Sunday night.
Me and Za are trashed, but bless him, he has the good sense to suggest that we head back to the hotel a little after 1am. We call it a night and jump a cab back.
Hope I didn't drink too much…
Follow the Bobzilla's Photos link at the right to see photos from my travels.
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