So, lots of folks are intrigued and interested to hear my Motley Crue experience. Since the story is quite entertaining, I figured I would blog about it. Warning: this story is fun, and it is 100% TRUE. I swear on my life.

Several years ago, Motley Crue went on tour and decided to grace Greensboro, NC with their ominent presence. My friends and I were not about to pass up the opportunity to get dolled up in leather and headbang to “Kickstart My Heart”, so we got tickets the day they went on sale.

I’m not sure if it was the $15 draft beer at the Coliseum, or the 1982 energy pouring from the stage, but we were on fire that night. Life was good, and we were looking like we belonged in the “Girls, Girls, Girls” video.

Ironically, we all felt the need to pee during the last song of the evening (“Home Sweet Home”, for those of you who are curious). So, we marched out into the corridors and went into the bathroom. We were drunk, but functionable. When we exited the facilities, there was a very large man covered in tattoos waiting for us.

“Hi ladies. Do any of you want to meet Motley Crue?” he boomed.

We all looked at each other and shrugged.

“Why not?” I spoke for the group.

“Follow me.”

We giggled as we trailed behind this beastly man.

“This is bullshit. We aren’t meeting the band,” my cousin said, nonchalantly, “he’s probably taking us to meet the roadies and the manager. This is gay.”

“Nah, I’ll bet we’re gonna at least see ‘em. Let’s check it out,” I responded.

We continued to follow tattoo guy all the way around he Coliseum, and down the stairs to a little room that was nestled perfectly on the side of the stage.

He opened the door for us and pointed inside.

“Go on in and help yourselves to whatever. The band will be back shortly. Well, everyone except for Vince. He’s going back to the tour bus with his wife.”

We followed each other in the room and he slammed the door behind us.

There was a table set up with all kinds of food….cheese, grapes, lunch meat, it was a smorgasbord of shit. There was a bar with every kind of liquor you could possibly imagine. Oh, and girls. Lots of them.

“Hi, what’s your name?” A groupie girl donning a tiny Tommy Lee t-shirt and a huge hairdo stuck out her hand as if to introduce herself.

“I’m Julie…” I said and shook her hand.

“This is so cool! We’re gonna meet Motely Crue!” she said, in the thickest Southern accent I’ve ever heard.

I looked down to see a white Styrofoam cooler that was sealed shut with masking tape. On the top of it was a warning written in Sharpie: Tommy Lee’s ONLY. Keep Your Fucking Hands OFF.

My cousin saw it, too, and immediately opened it up. Inside was about 24 Coronas, all of them already opened, nestled in ice, and a lime wedge was placed perfectly on top of each bottle.

“Want one?” she said as she grabbed several.

“But it says it’s Tommy Lee’s, what the fuck are you doing??” I said in an anxious tone.

“Who cares?? I want one.”

Right at that time, the door busts open and a very hyper Tommy Lee comes flying in the room.

“Mother FUCK! I love my life!!!!!!!!!!!!” he proclaimed at the top of his scrawny lungs.

He slammed himself up against the wall, and then took a plateful of food and tossed it against the other wall.

Then, Nikki Sixx and Mick Mars followed him into the room. They were much more reserved.

“Dude, chill the fuck out,” Nikki Sixx said in his sexy California voice.

“Performing gets me psyched!! Gahhhh!!!” he yelled and then suddenly stopped as he looked around the room, “Dude, where did all these fucking hotties come from?? I think I love Greensboro…”

He winked at his manager then walked towards me and my friends and bent over to open his beer chest.

“What the…?” he said, as he noticed the cooler had been opened and a few beers were confiscated.

He looked up to see my group, sipping on the Coronas that had been very clearly labeled as HIS.

“Hi. Corona is my favorite. You want one?” my cousin said, as she grabbed one out of the ice and handed it to him.

He remained speechless for about a minute, then all of a sudden snarled a half-smile and held the beer up as if to salute us.

“I like these girls!” he said, looking around the room, and chugged the beer.

I breathed a sigh of relief and chugged mine in unison.

This particular Motley Crue tour was themed after a circus act, and was entitled “Circus of Sins”. They were all dolled up in ruffled, rockstar attire and were covered in white makeup and blood-red eyes. Tommy Lee had sweated off most of his makeup and resembled a melted, demonic mime. I watched him in amazement as he ran around with the energy and tenacity of a teenager.

“I gotta pee…” my cousin said as she tapped me on the shoulder. We pushed our way through the backstage mob and made our way to the private facilities. She went into one of the stalls and I proceeded to apply lipstick in the mirror above the sink as I spoke to her about the events of the evening.

“Can you believe this shit??” I said through a chuckle, as I rubbed my lips together.

I suddenly caught the image of Tommy Lee behind me in the mirror, with his index finger pressed against his lips, communicating to me his wish for me to remain silent.

“This is hilarious! I swear no one will believe us!” she said from the bathroom stall.

I looked over to see Tommy Lee, standing on his tip-toes, looking over the top of the stall and watching her as she spoke.

“You know what’s even more hilarious?” I responded.

“What?” she said as she flushed the toilet.

“Tommy Lee is watching you take a piss right now.”

She screamed at the top of her lungs and Tommy started cracking up laughing. She walked out of the stall and he put his arms around both of us.

“You girls have to check out our tour bus. You’re gonna love it,” he grinned.

A select few of us filed out of the coliseum and into the back parking lot. The tour bus door was already open, and a short blonde guy was standing in the door.

“Come on in, ladies! Just tell me what you want to drink!” he said. He had a twinkle in his eye that was trustful, in a weird way.

My friends looked at me and shrugged. Why not? You only live once.

We all crammed in the bus and found a spot to sit. It was huge inside, complete with flatscreen TV’s and a mini bar. The sofas were made of leather and the windows were tinted black. This damn bus was nicer than my house.


Tommy Lee sat down next to me and cracked open a bottle of Jagermiester, took a huge guzzle, then passed it to me. I took it and then hesitated. I glanced at my friend. She gave me a nod as if to say, “Jager will kill any germs that guy is riddled with…” So I took a swig. And coughed.

All of a sudden, we felt a jolt. We were all shoved forward and grabbed onto one another in unison.

I looked out the window and noticed the scenery was moving past us.

“Are we…..moving?” my cousin asked, awestruck.

“Yes, we’re moving! We are taking this party to the Grandover Resort! Hell yeah!!!” the blonde guy (who, come to find out, was the band manager) yelled as he took a swig of the Jager.

“Oh shit,” my cousin said and then she gulped.

We walked into the hotel and everyone who worked there stopped in amazement. They watched us as our “group” walked through the lobby and piled into the elevator. Tommy Lee was still holding his drum sticks, pounding the air. His manager was drinking Jager from the bottle, and the rest of us were stumbling behind like crazy, slutty groupies. It was awesome.

We got to the 14th floor, which was completely rented out for the sake of privacy.

The room was obviously a suite, two stories of rock star bliss. I saw Tommy Lee’s suitcase, open and baring all. I was tempted to grab something out of it, but wouldn’t allow myself in fear of bad rocker karma. Candles were flickering everywhere, and music blasted in the background. The phone rang.

“They’re telling us to keep it down,” the blonde manager said, as he muffled the phone against his chest.

“Fuck them!” Tommy said and grabbed the phone and slammed it down.

“Who wants a shot??” he yelled, and we all volunteered.

Two more hours went by….drinking, cameras flashing, laughing, eating. And finally, at 4am…we called a cab.

I had been wearing a cowboy hat all night, and Tommy Lee ripped it off my head.

“Wow, you really have a beautiful face,” he said, as he admired me through glazed eyes.

“Thank you,” I smiled.

“No, seriously…I don’t normally like brunettes but damn.”

I turned to walk away from him and he grabbed my arm.

“Do you have a kiss for a rockstar?” he said.

“Nope, but a hug I can handle.”

I squeezed him and then broke away quick as my cousin was pulling me out the door.

“You girls are something else…” he said as he shook his head and watched us as we walked all the way down the hall to the elevator.

True story.