We had months of shows to do before Billy and Karen were leaving to Europe and I would be leaving for more earthly pursuits. We had a show at a downtown Portland club that doubled as a restaurant during the day.
After our encore, I was running backstage with everyone and ran ahead a little to pat Nicks ass and my high heels flew out from under me, as has I hit a patch of grease on the kitchen floor. I landed on my left wrist. My little drummer boy took me to the emergency room where they put a cast on it and said, "sorry darlin...6-weeks."
I asked the hospital for a couple ace bandages. I wrapped up the cast and gee...didn't look half bad...little bulky, but no one would know.
For the most part, they didn't know...except for this poor guy at a show we did in Corvalis the following weekend. He got a little too close. Keith saw it happen but all I saw was this guy being carried off the dance floor.
I thought it was some drunk that passed out. I didn't have a clue until the end of the show that I had knocked him out cold...I thought I'd hit the speaker!
The very next night, Candyce did a kick which landed square on some poor blokes jaw and dislocated it. His girlfriend promptly walked up and threw a drink on her before the song was over. There was no containing her; Candyce went after her and Steve had to pull Candyce back to the stage.
None of us could keep a straight face. We tried to keep it together but we were all in stitches, as we tried as hard as we could to make it through the song.
Check out the left hand in the picture. It's kinda in the powder that was released during that number but you can slightly see the cast...absolute truth.
No charges were pressed.
No comments:
Post a Comment