Dear Vince, Tommy, Nikki, and Mick,
My cousin Lenny, whose heart is a lot bigger than his brain, recently got thrown out of a Motley Crue concert for carelessly tossing an empty plastic beer cup on the floor. His buddy Marty got thrown out with him, apparently for being an accomplice to an empty beer cup thrower. In case I forgot to mention, they were at a Motley Crue concert, not a James Taylor, or Yo Yo Ma concert. And he threw an empty plastic beer cup. On the floor. Not an empty 40 oz glass bottle, which coincidentally was hurled into the air the first time Lenny saw you guys, and it struck him in the head, almost knocking him out. Fortunately, aside from a headache, he suffered no noticeable brain damage.
So there they were, a half hour after they arrived, before you had even played the opening lick of "Kick Start My Heart," standing outside the Verizon Wireless Arena, heartbroken and completely aghast. Lenny and Marty had seen you guys twenty years earlier in Old Orchard Beach, on the 'Dr. Feelgood Tour,' and this was their chance to relive the glory of the good old days while rocking out to "Girls, Girls, Girls." It was also Lenny's chance to rock out without a throbbing headache caused from being smacked with a airborn bottle of Colt 45.
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After a futile attempt to plead their way back in, two cops came and told them to beat it, which they did. But after standing around on the sidewalk, wondering what to do for the rest of the night, Lenny decided he would give it one more shot, so he went back to talk to the door guy again. Clearly, he felt, they didn't deserve to get thrown out, and surely this nice door guy would empathize with their situation and say, "Sure you can go back in. And hey, just for the trouble, here are two backstage passes."
As soon as Lenny opened the front door, he was immediately grabbed by the same two officers, handcuffed, and tossed in the back of a large white van. Two hours later, he was released from the police station with a citation to appear in Manchester District Court to face charges of a violation of criminal trespassing.
Alone and lost on the cold streets of Manchester, NH, Lenny wandered around looking for Marty, who immediately after his good friend was carted away in the paddywagon, had gone to the bar. Eventually, Lenny found the bar where Marty had taken residence, took him back to the hotel, watched him pass out on the floor, lifted his drunk carcass onto his bed, and took his shoes off.
Not to be defeated, he then went online and purchased two tickets for the show in Portland, Maine the following night. The tickets to the second show totalled almost $200. For my cousin Lenny, that is a lot of money, but as Lenny says, "You can't put a price on redemption." If you heard one voice that rose above the roar of the crowd in Portland, it was him. And if you recall the most exuberant cheering while you boarded the tourbus, that was him too.
I just wanted you to know that you've got die hard fans out there, who just like my cousin Lenny, will do whatever it takes to throw the devil horns in the air along with you. After all you've been through, this should make you feel pretty good. Next time however, after finishing his beer, my cousin Lenny will gently place his cup on the floor.
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Sincerely,
RJB
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