I have a story, too. It’s long (sorry), but I love talking about it (here come the smites). If you don’t feel like reading this whole thing, here’s the short version: I met Scott and he was nice. Otherwise, here we go…
I was very fortunate to have the opportunity to meet the band before the November show in Seattle. JVC sponsored a contest on facebook, which I won (and I’m still not sure how that happened, because I never win anything). The fine print said that the winner would receive, among other things, backstage access and a meet-and-greet with “a” band member. Note the use of the word “a.” I was unsure what I was in for, so I contacted some of the other winners on facebook, and they all told me essentially the same story: (1) they had an amazing time, and (2) they did not get to meet Scott. Everyone met Robert, most met Robert and Dean, and a lucky two met Robert, Dean and Eric. Convinced that this would be an absolute blast, I called my sister and we booked the trip to Seattle.
Right before the show, we were waiting to meet Julie, the woman who was responsible for herding us around, and we got to talking with a security guard. He told us that Scott always kept to himself and remained in his bus until show time, so no one really ever saw him. Still not completely convinced, we asked Julie if there was any chance that we would meet Scott. Her response: “Absolutely not. Mr. Weiland requires complete solitude in order to maintain his focus, and he never mingles with fans or anyone else. I’ve been touring with this band for over a year, and I’ve met that man exactly once.” OK. We get that. And we can certainly respect it.
Julie led us through this labyrinth of hallways to a room somewhere backstage. As soon as we walked in, we saw Robert…and Dean…and Eric!!! At that point, we felt like we hit the jackpot. Those three guys were super nice to us—cracking jokes and acting crazy the whole time. I remember getting into a thing with Dean and Robert: “Oh, you two are sisters? Well, we’re brothers!!!” They seemed really appreciative of the fact that we had traveled all that way just to see them (we live in Tampa). Eric even alluded to “the infamous Tampa show that never happened.” We told him that we forgave him (as if it were his fault anyway).
So, we hung out for a while, took pictures, and they signed stuff for us. Then we were all standing around, kind of in a circle, when I sensed that another person had quietly entered the room. I figured it was probably someone coming in to tell us that our time was up and we had to leave, so I just continued to focus on whoever was talking at the moment. The new person came over and politely stood beside me, with his hands clasped in front of him, as if he wanted to join in, but at the same time didn’t want to interrupt. I glanced over. It was some guy…wearing giant Ray-Bans. OH. MY. GOD. My mind was racing—THEY SAID HE WOULDN’T BE HERE—and I was sure that he would disappear at any second, so I felt like I had to get my sister’s attention so that she would see him before he was gone. So I’m whispering: “Judy, look…it’s Scott. SCOTT. IT’S SSSCCCOOOTTTTTT!!!” At least, I thought I was whispering—she later told me that I was screaming. And I guess I was, because at that point, the conversation stopped, and all five of us turned to look at him.
For the briefest instant, I saw a deer in the headlights. Based on the look on his face, he was ready to bail (get away, gotta get away…). But then, just as quickly, he seemed to recover and broke into that million dollar smile. Judy and I both immediately rushed him. We were so starstruck, though. Great, now that we have him, what do we do??? But I guess he’s used to it, because he very kindly broke the ice by asking US a question: “Hey girls, so where are you from?” I’m so glad my sister was there—she is really nice and normal, and she managed to regain her composure faster than I did. Between the two of us, we were able to manage a somewhat coherent conversation with him.
He is really soft-spoken. I was amazed. Who is this person? And where is the badass junkie I’ve heard so much about? I remember him laughing—a lot (probably at us). I asked if we could take pictures, and he said “of course.” I am so pissed that in all of the excitement I somehow lost the Sharpie that he used to sign the autographs (the Sharpie that HE touched). And then we got silly—“Can I hug you one more time? And after the hug, can I shake your hand again (because I CANNOT STOP TOUCHING YOU)?” Weird, I know. But he does have that effect on you.
Finally, I released my deathgrip on him, and the band went out to perform. As part of the JVC deal, I got to stand in the security pit during the first three songs so I could take pictures. Dean and Robert were really funny—they both came over to the edge of the stage at times to clown around and make goofy faces for the camera. I was hoping that Scott would do it, too, but he didn’t. While Dean and Robert were the same crazy m’fers onstage as they were backstage, Scott was completely different. It was like he went into character as soon as he got onstage. Interesting. I guess that’s the focus thing Julie was talking about.
Those three songs went by in a flash. I tried to crouch down and hide after Vasoline, but a giant security guard came over and escorted me—kicking and screaming—out of there. My sister had somehow secured on a spot on the rail, right in front of Dean, and I was able to push my way over to her (the people there were really mellow), and we enjoyed the rest of the show up front.
Hey, what are you lookin’ at?
She was a happy girl the day that she left me.
A happy girl, indeed. Best. Concert. Ever.
