The last show of the tour was in the famous Troubadour venue, West Hollywood, LA. Just 10 meters from the famous Beverly Hills sign. I looked for Axel Foley, believe me, but I think maybe he's retired by now. The tour party had grown. We now comprised of Bobby Long, Tour Manager Eric, The Kalob Griffin Band, Nicole, Ink Music Babsi and myself. The night before had been spent in Vegas, which is the most bizarre place you'll ever see – I really hated it actually, it's like a Friday night out in Bexleyheath, near my parent's place, where all around you see drunk boys fighting and slutty-looking drunk girls sitting on gas station floors and vomiting.
So we arrive at the venue, soundcheck etc, and then doors open. The place is PACKED. Bobby has a few friends in LA and brings some of them backstage, they're all really nice, a girl called Kristen, a guy called Tom, and a load of others whose names escape me. I go for a walk around the place, and I realize that there are paparazzi outside. This is the second time in my life I have seen real-life paparazzi. Played the show and it was amazing! The whole crowd was singing in harmony, people danced, beats blasted out and all was well. Afterwards I was interviewed by OK! Magazine, which I just assumed was because we were in LA, though as the questions came, I understood. See, Bobby has a friend called Robert, and Robert was in some big vampire movie trilogy recently, apparently. He was the lead actor. And Kristen was also in this big vampire movie trilogy, apparently as the lead girl.
So as some people left the backstage area to go on to another party, the paparazzi swarmed, totally taking some people by surprise, including poor lovely tour manager Eric. There is actually a youtube video already posted where you see the paps shouting "Kristen! Kristen!", then a bit of noise, then Eric's beautiful Arizona voice yelling "Get AAAAWF the CAAAAAAR! Get AAAAAAWF the CAAAAAAAR!!" and then a bit more noise, then a car pulls away. I was oblivious to all this, having been signing stuff out front, and walking back into the backstage, I see a scruffy, sweaty, shocked Eric, at the end of a 4 week tour, wild-eyed, and sporting a very psychotic smile, and the only words that would come out of this exhausted, adrenaline-filled American boy were: "Dude, I, like, totally just got run over!" Eric is my Hero.