Alter Bridge--The Perfect Storm, Postscript

Myles Kennedy at -15 degrees

For a moment, I just stood there, right inside the Moonrise doors, breathing in the warmth, feeling the ice crystals in my lungs begin to melt. The staff was staring at me in a highly cautious manner, but I didn’t care. They had my credit card—I had paid for this luxury.

After a moment, I stumbled on numb toes over to the lounge area and collapsed in the most comfortable chair the world has ever known. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to God. I was done, and I was ready, if She wanted me.

Apparently She didn’t want me (I’m not sure She is fond of Agnostics) because when I opened my eyes I was still there, and the staff was still eyeing me warily. Not long after, however, the rest of the team straggled in, smiling and laughing. They all collapsed around me and we drank in the heat. Sarah, however, only paused slightly as she came in the door, clearly headed straight for the elevators—and bed. She bid her farewells and gave a blank stare to Steph when asked, “Don’t you want to come to the bar with us for a while?”

The energizer Bunny, I now know, also operates flawlessly in sub-zero temperatures. I think I laughed out loud. I was still suffering a bit from hysteria. I stood shakily and told the group that I, too, was done. Over and out. It was either risk looking rude or die in a lobby instead of a comfortable bed. I chose the former. So ladies, now you know I was simply done in by a weekend that you have full details on. But it was still wonderful to see you! (And let’s look forward to whatever Pearl Jam is cooking up for their Destination Weekend late summer!)



It wouldn’t have been the The Perfect Storm if our key cards had worked once we got to our room. Both cards, de-activated. Wordlessly, we went back down to the front desk to get them jump-started. It was at this time I noticed that when I opened my mouth, less and less was coming out. My vocal chords, preserved just long enough for a final conversation with Myles and Flip, were clearly on the way out.

The next thing I remember is waking up and feeling like someone had their hand wrapped around my throat. Someone had done a completely thorough job on my vocal chords. I had even promised myself after Chicago, which left me a little hoarse, that I would lip-synch in St. Louis to keep from further damaging my vocal chords. That didn’t happen. The minute Myles took the stage I sang every note, full volume.

Steph, who came in after we were asleep, had been up since about 5 a.m. typing away on her laptop. As she noticed me sit up, she asked if she had woken me. I opened my mouth to answer and… nothing. Not even a squeak. All of it, gone. First thought was, “How the fuck does Myles do it every night?” and the second was, “How the fuck do I work tomorrow?” I had no vacation time left (really goes without saying, now) and I work 90% over the phone, and 10% via e-mail—all from home. THIS was going to be interesting.


Scott "Flip" Phillips, Steph the Eneergizer Bunny, Myles Kennedy, Sarah and I