In a twist of fiction became truth. You might recall my rejected Kickstarter proposing to reunite Guns N’ Roses with a clone of Axl created from spittle found on his whistle. As you know, Guns did reunite. And like all misfits, I felt obligated to return to the scene of the crime, aka St. Louis where I was present for the Riverport Riot some 26 years ago.
While submersing myself in the religious experience that is a GnFnR concert, and also trying not to go neurotic at the thought of driving across the god forsaken state of Missouri visiting family the following 3 days, the Rock Gods smiled upon me. I caught Axl’s whistle when he threw it into the crowd during Paradise City.
Turns out, after 3 hours and 15 minutes of rocking, some people stop paying attention. Or conversely can’t stop fucking with their phones. People whom I presume paid hundreds of dollars to be in the 4th row behind the pit left early.
So much to my surprise and delight, there I was watching a silver jewel of hard rock being flung in my general direction by my favorite recluse / genius / new found punctual front man. While at the moment I was thinking. It’s almost over. I’m not in the right place for where he’s going to throw his microphone into the crowd at the end. I reached out my arms, felt bounce of metal off my flesh, and entangle the cord in my hands. Instinctively, I went to the ground, preparing to be at the bottom of a dog pile. Yet not so much as a shove from my neighbors. So I ball up newly obtained article and shove it deep in my pocket, preparing to defend my piece of rock history. Finally feeling someone relieved, I look around to curious stares. A couple people asked “What was it?”. “His whistle. Axl’s whistle!”, I exclaim. Probably sounding like a thirteen year old girl that Justin Timberlake winked at.
I thrashed around for the remainder of the closing song with newfound energy. Afraid to pull my best souvenir ever from my pocket, I frequently felt for it through my jeans to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. At least my fellow rockers didn’t seem bothered by what I’m sure appeared to be me fondling myself and grinning like an idiot.
A short time later I was relieved and disappointed to be alone walking back to my rental car parked in a dirt parking lot in downtown St. Louis. Take That St. Louis!
