This was going to be a two part story, but the events leading up to - and just after - Mike Squires' life fearing flight from the Rock Rock bar in Japan are worth a third part epilogue. I went up to Seattle today and got the story straight from the source, and that'll show up next Wednesday. Cheers. 

So, there we all were. At Rock Rock. I can't quite remember how Duff and Zakk Wylde ended up in the middle of the room talking before Mike Squires or I got a chance to butt in (maybe because they're Duff and Zakk?), but that's how I stumbled upon them. Duff at this point is a sober guy. Zakk is not sober. I am neither a sober guy nor sober. But I'm used to being around Mr. Guns ‘n' Roses while I'm drinking and he's not, and I had become pretty good at picking up his signs of comfortableness with a given situation.  

Anyway, I'm drunk and picking up on cute Japanese girls, watching amusedly while Duff tries to absorb all of the "brother blows" from Zakk - smacks on the back, shaking both shoulders, the arm around the neck embrace shake, etc. Until I see the telltale look around both shoulders that even early in our relationship I came to know as a cry for, "Help get this guy off me!" I pounced on my opportunity. I rolled right up to the two of them, and, not waiting for an introduction, put my hand straight out to Zakk. 

Duff leaned to Zakk, "Oh yeah man, this is Geoff. He plays drums in Loaded."

Zakk is not a monster of a man. He's somewhere between my height and Duff's - maybe six foot. Maybe not. But I was drunk and he was drunk, and one thing I have come to know is - for the most part - dudes tend to like me. I don't know why, and I don't care. But Zakk was no exception.

"HEY BROTHER, FUCKIN GOOD TO MEET YOU," Zakk shouted over the bar's ruckus in a hoarse cookie monster voice. I gave him a nice good beast-master of a hand shake and went straight in for the ear to try to make the connection about the conversation we had a few years back on Duff's land line. 

The music was LOUD LOUD LOUD.  The place was packed. Trying to shout something to someone you just met - who may or may not decide to roid rage on you with a beer bottle to the melon - was risky at best.

But I'm me, and dudes like me. When the words, "Dogs shit all over everything" came out of my mouth, I watched as they hit their mark. Zakk's face lit up with recognition, like I had just told him Pam Anderson was now into drunken guys with beards who aren't big on showering. I was in - and we were truly brothers.

"OH MOTHERFUCKER. THAT'S FUCKIN HILARIOUS. I REMEMBER YOU! THOSE FUCKIN DOGS STILL SHIT ALL OVER THE FUCKIN HOUSE. HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU, BROTHER? IT'S FUCKIN GREAT TO SEE YOU MAN! FUCK AN A!" Zakk loudly grumbled.

It was so much more than I could have hoped for that I wasn't going to hang around and let the glow mellow.  As quickly as I had arrived I threw out (yelled out) some shit about not letting the good ones get away while I was talking to a couple of Rockstar losers, to which Zakk roared with laughter.

I left Duff, still without backup, and he resumed absorbing dude blows, all the while trying to keep Zakk from tearing down the DJ. At this point, Zakk was pretty busy screaming at the DJ to play more songs from the Ozzy and Black Label Society catalogs.

I could have gone home at that point. But this had turned into one of those nights that made all the sacrifice worth it. There was never any real money involved in playing with Loaded, so the best you could hope for was that Duff's name would open some fun doors to experiences you would never be privy to otherwise. And while Japan, culturally, has always been an amazingly alien experience, the rock fans there are true fanatics, and when they get drunk, they just about come out of their skin.  So I hung around and flirted with girls, sat at the bar and teased this amazing Japanese tranny, saying I would take she/him home if she/him hadn't gotten the operation yet but that she/him had, so... sorry, but I'm not into post-op. We had a great time talking shit to each other. Later, I ended up talking to group of fans and showing off the Polaroid pictures of New American Shame in the glass cases - taken a few years earlier on my first trip to Osaka and the Rock Rock.

All the while, I kept a nice, even, "enjoying the shit outta myself" kind of buzz. It was magical.

I don't know how much time passed. Not too much. I was standing between where Zakk and Duff were positioned and the door. The place was still PACKED, so getting anywhere required serious, uncomfortable maneuvering.

At this point I noticed the crowd start to agitate. Suddenly, Mike Squires comes scooting and shimmying, ducking and leaning through the crowd with an obvious purpose. His face was drained of blood, and he had a look in his eyes that said, "I will run you the fuck over to get away." 

As I do whenever possible, no matter what Mike is doing, I tried to make it a little harder for him to accomplish what he was trying to do. So I squished my group of people together and feigned like I was going to introduce him to all of them - but he Mike got right up next to me, and I could smell the real fear of god emanating. 

Naturally, I bro'd up and made a hole.

"Where the fuck are you going?" I asked.

 "I gotta get outta here, man. I think Zakk is gonna KILL me!" is all Mike said in return.

And then he was gone. I laughed a little to myself, adding Zakk's name to the mental "another person inadvertently rubbed the wrong way by Mike Squires" list.

Not long after that, I made my own move toward the door - but not before going back over to Zakk, who at this point had shed Duff and had taken to heckling the DJ full time into playing jams featuring Zakk. The DJ's reward for his obedience was to have Zakk stand right in front of the booth and alternate between throwing both hands with horns into the air, howling, and pounding both hands on plastic barrier surrounding the DJ booth that was half hockey rink, half salad bar sneeze guard protection. I interrupted all this to let him know how great it was to run into him. For my efforts, I received a two handed embrace, and a heartfelt and tender goodbye. Zakk shouted at me, "FUCKIN A BROTHER, IT WAS FUCKIN GREAT TO SEE YOU. I'LL SEE YOU AGAIN REAL SOON, YOU FUCKIN HEAR ME?"

Eyeball to eyeball. I told him he was goddamn right he would. We broke our embrace, and I headed toward the door. The second we lost sight of each other my smile went from broseph-dude cool, to shit eating grin. Plastered on my face. Plastered on my brain. It was glorious. Totally a moment suspended in time. Forever.

It's hard to feel better about the world when you're in the midst of living a dream. I said the same goodbyes and left a shitty little bar - just like I'd done a million times before; only this bar was in fucking Osaka, Japan - and the goodbye was to the guy that stands next to Ozzy on stage.

It was working for me.

(To be continued...)

Drummer Geoff Reading - who writes a bi-weekly online column (Fridays) for the Weekly Volcano called "Holding Down the 253" in addition to his weekly Wednesday music column - has played music in tons of Northwest bands - Green Apple Quick Step, New American Shame, Top Heavy Crush and most recently Duff McKagan's LOADED - to name but a few. He's toured the world several times over, sharing stages with the likes of Slipknot, The Cult, Buckcherry, Korn, Journey, The Sex Pistols, Nine Inch Nails and on and on. He has called Tacoma home since 2005, and lives in the North End with his wife and son.