Welcome to My Jungle (8 page)

That night there was no show, so Natasha and I just hung in the room, ordered room service, and just chilled. She was feeling much better after having met the guys.

Only wish that would have lasted at least one night.

When you tour with a band like Guns N’ Roses, you must be on your toes 24/7. We had tons of security everywhere we went, and no one could come onto our hotel floor. We would book every room on a hotel floor, and most floors needed a special key to get to.

Another tool for our high security was our walkie-talkies. We all had to bring our walkie-talkies wherever we went, and they had to be on at all times—no exceptions. If you were with a woman, in the middle of “it,” and someone needed you and called on the walkie-talkie, you were expected to stop what you were doing and address the situation immediately.

I always left my walkie-talkie right next to my bed because I was mostly responsible for Axl Rose. If something happened to him, there would be cancelled shows, disappointed fans, and a lot of people out of work. So out of everyone, I needed my walkie-talkie on at all times, and I had to be available 24/7 no matter what.

That included when Natasha was on the road as well.

On this special night, when Natasha and I got to hold each other because we missed each other, that walkie-talkie started making a sound.

I didn’t really think anything of it—even though it was about two in the morning. I thought to myself it was probably Duff wanting someone to get him a drink because he ran out of vodka.

No luck.

Coming from the walkie-talkie were these now-famous words.

“Gentlemen, the ladies are here. Let the games begin.”

I had no idea who it was, but at that point it really didn’t matter.

And with that I jumped out of bed and started fumbling with my walkie-talkie, trying my best to turn it off.

Natasha stared at me and sternly said, “Leave it on.”

I did.

Then from the walkie-talkie we heard giggling. A lot of giggling, by a lot of girls.

I was screwed. I knew where this was going, and there was no way to explain it.

But it was even worse than I thought. All of a sudden, outside my hotel room door I heard what sounded like a stampede. And more giggling.

I turned to Natasha, who had the most interesting smile on her face. I didn’t know if she thought this was funny, or if she was about to kill me even though I had nothing to do with this.

“I’m going to go see what’s going on,” I said out loud, much to my surprise.

“You’re not going anywhere, Craig.”

Before that moment my name was always “Honey” or “Peach.” Now it was “Craig.” Just like when my mom was pissed at me as a kid.

But I did have to do my job and make sure everything was okay. So I opened my hotel door, and I saw about fifty naked women right outside my door, walking down the hall. To where, I don’t know. I could only guess at this point.

I wanted to leave my door open for at least a few seconds, but thought better of it.

I turned to Natasha and she was still smiling.

“Honey, this has never happened before.” And while I was telling the truth,
I
didn’t even believe me.

“Do you want to go with them?”

Boy was that a loaded question.

Obviously I stayed with Natasha, and while it took her a little time to get used to the road, she was totally okay. Truth be told, that was the only night something like that happened. I found out the next day, because I just had to know, that the promoter in South America thought it would be really cool and impressive to empty a whorehouse out and bring them all to the hotel via bus … naked.

Yes, right through the hotel lobby, into the elevators, and onto our floor.

You don’t see that every day. Not even with Guns N’ Roses.

Me and Natasha in Cancun, Mexico. During the tour I actually had the chance to enjoy a few days off with my wife-to-be Natasha. Oh, I wish I still had that much hair!

PAPARAZZI—GERMANY

We were in Germany and Natasha was out on the road with us again for a few dates. I loved it when Natasha came out on the road because Axl would pretty much let me be with her, and Robert would take the lead for a while. It was almost like we were on vacation, even though I still had to go to the shows, and I was still responsible for doing my job.

Most of the time we tended to stay in the hotel, because going out on the town with Axl took a lot of hard work. We had to pre-screen where we were going, we had to make sure we had security, and I had to coordinate transportation. It wasn’t like Axl and I could just take a walk during the middle of the day, in a city he was about to play a show in front of 80,000 raging fans.

But I could take a walk with Natasha.

And so we did.

We went right out the front of the hotel, hand in hand, and just went for a walk. That’s it, a simple walk. But for me, it was so refreshing. It’s amazing when you can appreciate the simple things in life, and while fame has some great perks, many celebrities can’t take a walk in a city in the middle of the day. Axl would have been mauled in seconds.

We went window shopping, walking down a busy city street, and we got the feeling that someone was following us. I had really long hair at the time (see picture on the previous page) and many of us on the road did as well, and we were sometimes mistaken for members of the band. Plus, I was wearing really cool, ripped jeans. At the very least people knew we were probably part of the staff or crew. We kept walking and every once in a while I turned around, but no one was there, at least no one who looked suspicious. We kept hearing a camera shutter sound, but no one was ever there.

We knew what was happening. A German photographer had probably mistaken me for a member of the band, but Natasha and I didn’t let it bother us. We kept walking and milked it. In fact, we milked it so much that people on the streets could see the photographer following us, so they stared as well, trying to figure out who we were.

We went to a lake and fed some geese, you know all those things rock stars do on a regular basis.

After a few hours we headed back to the hotel. And our photographer friend was still there, following us.

That night Guns N’ Roses performed.

The next day, Natasha and I got something to eat in the lobby. A man came up to us, seeming a little pissed, and handed me a large manila envelope.

When you’re on tour with Guns N’ Roses, in a foreign country, and there is security everywhere, the last thing you want is to be handed a large manila envelope by someone who seems a bit off.

But it didn’t feel like there were any drugs in the envelope.

The guy said, “Here you go.”

I reluctantly took the package.

Awkward silence.

I finally said, “What is it?”

“Apparently you’re not famous. So here you go.”

And he left. He still seemed a little perturbed as he walked away.

I looked at Natasha and said, “Okay, that was weird.”

I opened the envelope, and inside were about 500 pictures of Natasha and me on our little jaunt through the city the day before.

Classic.

Just like I figured—he thought I was in the band and he wanted to capture my day on the town. Unfortunately for him, it was a total waste of four hours.

I imagined the meeting he probably had with his boss after showing him the pictures. The boss probably said, “Who the hell is this guy?” And he probably said, “A guy from Guns N’ Roses, right?”

And he was probably immediately removed from the office and became the laughingstock of German paparazzi that day.

But I personally appreciated him very much. He documented my entire walk with my fiancée through the city and the park at no charge. For that, I say thank you, Mr. Paparazzi Man, whoever you were, for the awesome pictures.

TOWER RECORDS

Ah, the power of touring with a band like Gun N’ Roses. If you used the power right, and were respectful, you could get whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

Case in point—Hollywood, 1993.

I was staying at Hotel Nikko in Los Angeles with Natasha. We were off for a few weeks, and when we were off, the band put us up at a hotel in Los Angeles. It’s funny, Slash has a house in Los Angeles. But he used to stay with us at the hotel. He had been on the road for so long that he enjoyed staying at a hotel even though his house was just a few miles away. Probably because he would miss me too much if he didn’t see me for a few weeks.

Out of all the guys in the band, Slash was the one I used to party with the most. Not that it was a lot, but when I went out I would usually go out with Slash and his gang. If I went out with Axl, I would have to work, but with Slash, all I had to do was drink and party. I could do that very well.

So, I was staying at Hotel Nikko, and Natasha and I were listening to music on my portable stereo. We were listening to Queen, because we both love Queen. We were talking about obscure Queen songs and I asked her if she ever heard the song “You Take My Breath Away.” She hadn’t.

I wanted to play that song for her right then and there, but I didn’t have that specific album. It was the perfect moment to play that song and I couldn’t play it. Back then there was no iTunes.

I was used to getting everything I wanted, the second I wanted it. Not because of me, but simply because I was with Guns N’ Roses, and more specifically, I was with Axl Rose. If Axl wanted something, I could get it within minutes. For example, one time, Axl wanted me to find him an English-speaking ear, nose, and throat doctor in Czechoslovakia.

Axl had a very sore throat, if I remember correctly. He really wasn’t feeling well, and he was tempted to cancel the show. But it was like an hour or two before the show, and many of the 80,000 people were already in their seats.

Axl turned to me and said, “Get me an English-speaking ENT in thirty minutes or I’m not doing the show tonight.”

Imagine the pressure. And this was without the Internet and a cell phone.

But I was on it. I called people to call people. I called hospitals, I called the local police (who I had met the night before in my limo accident), I called drug stores, anything I could think of. We had a translator touring with us, and I had him with me for the next ten minutes, helping me out on the phones. And if I remember correctly, someone backstage had a friend of a friend, and we had him call his friend the “English-speaking ENT.” He was about fifteen minutes away. I offered him a few thousand dollars if he would drop everything and come right away. He arrived backstage within fifteen minutes and helped Axl get better almost immediately.

They say that pressure turns coal into diamonds, and there was a lot of pressure that night, but it was one hell of a show.

So, I was trained, and I realized that I could get anything I wanted because of the status of Guns N’ Roses in the early 90s.

My Natasha wanted to listen to “You Take My Breath Away.” Well, actually it was more me wanting her to hear the song, but who’s keeping track?

Problem was it was 11:50 p.m., and I knew that Tower Records closed at midnight. I had no car, and no limo waiting for me out front, and a taxi would take way too long.

So I called Tower Records.

An employee answered the phone. “Towers Records, may I help you?”

“Yes, okay, this will seem like a weird call at first, but I promise you that what I’m about to tell you is true, so please don’t hang up.”

The guy said, “I work at Tower Records. Nothing you say will surprise me.”

Touché.

I told him that I worked with Guns N’ Roses, which was true.

I told him that I was currently on tour with Guns N’ Roses, which was true.

I told him that I specifically worked with Axl Rose. Also very true.

And then I told him that Axl wanted to hear a song by Queen, and that we didn’t have the album. Okay, that part wasn’t true. But I lied for love.

I went on to say that I couldn’t leave the hotel because I couldn’t leave Axl there alone because we had no other security. But we needed that Queen album. And that Axl really wanted it tonight.

He was silent. I wasn’t sure if he was silent because he didn’t believe me, or that he was talking to someone who worked with Axl Rose.

“Hello?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“So, I was wondering if it would be possible for me to give you a credit card over the phone, and then pay you to drive the CD over to my hotel.”

Silence again.

But then all of a sudden he said, “I can do that.”

I immediately did the happy dance.

Natasha shook her head in disbelief.

Then the guy said, “But we don’t take credit cards over the phone.”

Damn.

“Okay, how about this … How about you pay for the CD with your money, then drive it over here. I’ll pay you back for the CD, and I’ll give you an extra $100 for your trouble.”

Think about it. I had just asked, probably a teenager, to spend his hard-earned money on a CD, and then drive it to my hotel, to a stranger, in hopes that I would be there, and in hopes of getting $100 as well. It was a different world in 1993. I would not suggest doing this today.