The bouffant Jovis pose backstage in a manly manner
Mr Jovi with his 'axe'.
It's another painful backstage farrago for the fawning photographers as Bon Jovi and his merry men strut through every rock cliché you'd ever seen. Much fist clenching and references to 'The Rock!' were heard before they headed off to excite the huge crowd with their stadium rocking antics.
Once again, I trooped behind the pros to our little viewing platform, but this time it all looked different. I'd become a dwarf! No, hang on, all the other photographers have suddenly grown two feet, courtesy of some hefty metal boxes they were standing on, leaving me with a tremendous view of the blinking lights of their turbo charged flash packs and precious little else. Fuckers.
The next five minutes or so went by in a depressing blur. Bon Jovi pumped out the usual stream of tub thumping nonsense while yours truly did a hopeless impression of a swan, with a wobbling camera held aloft, pointing optimistically at where the 'action' was.
As my diminutive flash spat out it's feeble charge, the Pros were doing their best to elbow me, knock me off the platform and generally get in the way. By this time I'd already lost interest in proceedings and it was with some relief that a hefty bouncer came along and hurled us all off the platform. It was over! I immediately headed for the bar and remained there for as long as possible.
Funnily enough, despite hearing hours of music that day, the most overriding memory is the squeak that my camera bag made on the long trudge home.