For Sam Hamovitch, the year was 1986, and you were about to witness the birth of a historical moment in rock and roll history. It was called "Hair Metal," and it was pioneered by Mötley Crüe. Your bedroom walls were festooned with pin-ups of Crüe band members Vince, Nikki, Tommy, and Mick. The photos had been ripped out of your monthly issues of Creem. Years later, you realized that "Helter Skelter"was written by The Beatles.
Your childhood dream was to one day see the Crüe live in-concert, and last night, at the Seminole Hard Rock Casino, your dream came true. NBA legend Dennis Rodman, surrounded by admirers, was partying like a rock star in the VIP section, as Mötley Crüe kicked some fucking ass on the stage below. A thin man wearing a Bon Jovi T-shirt yelled at him over the loud heavy metal, "You were the first rock and roll basketball player Dennis, now they all have tattoos." Dennis took a puff of his cigar and blew smoke in the man's face. Mötley Crüe was cranking out "Live Wire," "Dr. Feelgood," "Jailhouse Rock," "Girls, Girls, Girls" and more from their catalog of hits. "This is the life," you thought to yourself as you sipped a cold beer.
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Your cell phone suddenly buzzed with a text message. "Mick looks like he is about to have a heart attack," it said. "LOL," you replied. You looked up at Mick Mars (age 57), he was so close that you could see the grey hairs on his gaunt face. Women flashed their boobs, and you noticed that Nikki Sixx had an Obama sticker on his bass.
Feeling clausterphobic, it was time to go back up to the VIP section. "Looks like a heavy metal food court," said multimedia artist Jacob Katel as you passed hundreds of mullets with bald spots, grandmas in tight purple spandex, teenagers in cowboy hats, and rocker women in high heeled boots. Your fellow Mötley Crüe fans were lined up to purchase $45 concert T-shirts, $8 chicken sandwiches, and $5 cans of Tecate beer. "Fuck yeah," said a man with a gray pony tail before biting into a hot dog. "I hate Vince Neil," said a large bald headed man with a mustache next to him. "He was driving drunk and killed a guy," he continued. Inside the elevator, a man wearing dark brown leather pants and a matching vest says, "Who gives a shit about the recession?" A pale woman with a pink handkerchief tied around her head replied, "I lost a lot of money at the black jack tables." The bright fluorescent light bulb is making you sweat, as the elevator doors open.
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From the VIP section, you watch the Mötley Crüe spectacle unfolding. During Shout at the Devil, George W. Bush's face was projected onto the stage's back screen. Dennis Rodman was dancing and singing along with his fists in the air. 93 Rock's Naughty Natalia informed us that she gets 8,000 hits a day on her website, and that she can get backstage passes. The band takes a break, except for Tommy Lee, who performed a solo comedy shtick. "He did the same thing last year, but it was better," said Natalia. "I am so fucking horny," Tommy yelled as the crowd cheered in unison. "Are you fucking horny?" He passed a bottle of Jaegermeister to an audience member in the front row. "Lets celebrate. We have a new President. God bless all these titties." The band came back out and ended their set with a power ballad, Home Sweet Home.
As a side note, I followed Dennis Rodman, Naughty Natalia, and an entourage of people back to the elevator, downstairs, out the door, and into various bars at the Casino. As I drove home, I listened to Black Flag.