Welcome to My Jungle (10 page)

I had a plan, but it wasn’t going to be pretty.

When Axl hit the stage he was extremely high-octane energy for more than two hours. Axl gave it his all, 100 percent, all the time. But to do that, to give people a great show, he liked to get “worked up” before going onstage.

I knew that showing him the plate of chilies and a block of cheese might set him off, but I didn’t want him to go into a show with negative energy.

“Deuce,” called Doug on the walkie-talkie.

“Not now, Doug.”

I turned my walkie-talkie off, and I put my plan into action.

I took the plate of chilies and cheese, and a few other plates and water glasses, and walked into the hallway.

I threw the plate of chili and cheese, and the extra plates, and the water glasses against the wall, smashing them into a thousand pieces. It made a huge noise.

Axl came running out of his room.

“What the hell was that?”

I pointed to the chili and cheese strewn all over the floor.

“They screwed up. I ordered chili and cheese and this is what they brought up. So, I got pissed at the waiter and I threw the plates at him in disgust. Sorry, I lost my temper.”

Axl said something like, “Dude, you gotta calm down.”

“I know,” I agreed.

Then Axl said, “Let’s get out of here.”

And we left for the venue.

And that, my friends, is how you handle a bad situation in a foreign country. RockStar-style.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO FOR $1,000?

Believe it or not, it’s easy to get bored on the road, even on one of the biggest tours in the history of rock. Very bored. The thirty of us in the band and the entourage saw each other 365 days a year, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. There’s only so much you can talk about, especially when you’re cooped up in your room because thousands of fans are lining the streets outside the hotel. It was so bad that strip clubs even became boring.

Craig, Duff, and Gilby after wrestling match
.

So, what to do?

Once in a while we would have wrestling matches. On page 67 is the end of a wrestling match between me, Duff, and Gilby. There usually wasn’t a winner, but it was always a great way to burn off the recently ingested alcohol in our systems.

Another hobby we all loved took place backstage either before or after the show. Let me first say that this was by far the stupidest thing I ever participated in because of the size of the guys I would play against.

Picture this: Me, a six foot, 190-pound guy in pretty decent shape, having a punching contest with one of the members of our security team, which had an average height of six-foot-two, and an average weight of about 260 pounds.

I’m talking big guys.

What we would do is stand opposite each other with the out-steps of our right feet touching each other’s. Once positioned we could not move. We would each then lean back and try to avoid getting hit, while at the same time trying to hit our opponent’s upper right arm with our right fists as hard as we could.

And I mean, as hard as we could.

Grown men, responsible for a multimillion-dollar world tour, acting like little kids on a playground.

And me, the stupidest one of all, playing this game against these huge guys.

I usually got a few shots in, but all they had to do was connect once and it was over. I had multiple bruises on my arms for about six months of the tour until, thankfully, I played my last match.

It was against Duff’s security guy. His name was Rick Beaman, and his nickname was Truck, and that right there should be enough description for you to imagine his size. Great guy—pretty much a big teddy bear.

Truck and I lined up and went about thirty seconds’ worth of missed punches and slight connections, but no pain yet. The one thing I had going for me was speed. These guys were huge, but I was fast.

All of a sudden I decided to go for it and I nailed Truck with a good shot to his arm. Unfortunately, it was as if a fly had landed on his arm. No ill effect from the punch at all. But because I lunged at him and connected, it left me wide open, and he took his shot. The shot only grazed my right arm, and for one millisecond I was grateful that he kinda missed … until the continuing progress of that punch hit me in my face, more specifically, my jaw.

Down I went.

I saw stars, and for a few seconds I didn’t know what hit me, but it felt like a truck. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)

And that was it. After that night I retired from the stupidest game ever invented by a bunch of bored men on tour with a famous band.

Because I retired from that game, I was hoping someone would come up with more creative ways to have fun on the road to keep me entertained.

Enter Axl Rose.

One night in Buenos Aires, Axl thought it would be a good idea to offer one of the members of the entourage a few hundred dollars cash to run naked in the streets outside the front of our hotel, in front of hundreds of screaming fans. Most people would think this would be enough to earn a few hundred dollars.

Not Axl.

After the naked man ran in the street, Axl wanted him to shake the hand of an Argentinean police officer.

I thought that whoever did this would experience, firsthand,
Midnight Express
. I personally wouldn’t do this in the United States, but to do it in a foreign county? Not a chance.

Gene Kirkland didn’t think it would be a problem.

Gene was one of the two photographers for Guns N’ Roses. He and Robert John basically documented the entire tour in pictures, taking thousands of shots during the three-year journey.

I’m not sure how much money Gene got paid on the road, but obviously he felt that it wouldn’t hurt to pick up some extra cash.

But Gene was in negotiation mode. He wanted $1,000.

Axl agreed, and the dare was on.

Gene agreed that for $1,000 he would walk outside the front of the hotel in a bath towel, toss aside the towel to reveal his nakedness, run over to a police officer, and shake his hand.

Simple.

Within seconds we all got on our walkie-talkies, and told everyone to come to the lobby immediately to watch Gene go to jail, because in my mind, if his did this, that’s exactly where he was going.

The photos on
page 73
show the sequence of the event. Gene left the lobby, headed up to his room to get ready, and within minutes the band members and the entire entourage were in the lobby ready to witness Gene’s last hour of freedom.

The documentary crew came running down to the lobby; they had basically documented the entire tour to date, and they weren’t about to miss this fine piece of Guns N’ Roses lore.

The hundreds of fans lined up behind a metal fence barrier were also ready, anticipating that something “cool” was about to happen, even though they didn’t know what.

The elevator bell dinged, and Gene stepped out in the lobby wearing only a white bath towel and a tie. The tie was a great touch—class personified.

Axl flashed ten crisp, new $100 bills, and we were off to take our positions outside the front of the hotel.

I could tell that Gene was freaking out by the horrified look on his face, because I think reality had just set in, but it was too late to turn back. There were too many people watching.

Axl pointed to a police officer standing across the street and instructed Gene that that was the officer he was to shake hands with. Of course Axl chose the meanest looking one.

By then every one of us was advising Gene how to do this. As if it were rocket science. We told him a bunch of unnecessary crap: how to throw the towel off, to watch out for the curb, and to make sure the handshake was firm. We all just wanted to be part of it. This was fun for us, and especially fun for the band. Playing in front of 80,000 people? That happens every day. But having a guy in the entourage run naked through the streets of Buenos Aires? Now, that’s a great time.

Without notice, as if he had been shot out of a cannon, Gene was off. He pulled off his towel and ran naked across the hotel parking lot on a beeline to the pre-chosen police officer. He approached the officer, smiling the entire time, reached his hand out, and waited for a handshake.

The police officer didn’t really know what was happening for a second, but amazingly he reached out and shook hands with Gene.

I was in shock. The police officer actually shook hands with him. The officer started to smile, and for a split-second I thought Gene would be okay, that they wouldn’t throw his naked ass in jail.

Gene turned to us and smiled.

But that was only a fleeting moment, because about two seconds later, two police officers grabbed Gene, each taking hold of his upper arms, and proceeded to guide him up against the outside of the hotel wall. Gene dropped his towel, and the police officers made him spread his legs and put his two hands up on the wall.

We all laughed, because it was hysterical, but we all thought the same thing. Gene was going to jail. We didn’t know exactly how long a sentence is for running naked through the streets in Buenos Aires, but we all knew he wasn’t going to be free in the near future.

He was screwed.

Then something weird happened. Obviously protocol at this point is to frisk the perpetrator, and they did. But he was naked.

What were they frisking?

And as they were “frisking” Gene, the police officers couldn’t hold it in any longer, and they started laughing.

Axl and Doug cracked up as well. The tension was broken.

But most of us still thought that this wasn’t going to end well, until Doug told us what was up.

Doug had paid off the police officers to fake arrest Gene and after a few moments set him free.

Only in Argentina.

The police officers were in on the ruse, and so were Axl and Doug, and maybe even a few others. I had thought for sure that Gene was going to jail. More amazing was that Gene had no idea that this was planned out. He thought, in a moment of insanity, that he would be allowed to walk over to a police officer in a foreign country, naked, and not get in trouble. When he was tossed up against the wall, reality set in and he said he thought to himself,
I’m screwed
.

But luckily it was all a setup.

Gene put his towel back on, adjusted his tie, grabbed the $1,000 from Axl, and headed back to the lobby bar. A richer man with a lesson learned.

Axl getting ready to award $1,000 to our tour photographer, Gene Kirkland, if he runs up to a cop (naked), and offers to shake his hand … in Buenos Aires, Argentina
.

Gene getting frisked after he shakes the police officers’ hands. What are they frisking?