What Might Have Been: The Night I Met Bon Jovi

If you squint, you can see me and Jon chatting through the windows.

I grew up in La Crosse, Wisconsin, the drinking capital of the known world — and perhaps, the universe. Does anyone get hammered in outer space? One Thursday night I was out in the storied downtown district where I was counted among the many young people who willingly put themselves into a coma almost every night. And while in the middle, or rather, towards the end of that endeavor I was made aware that someone special was right down the street at a bar I stole a Guinness poster from one night.

Who? You guessed it. Jon Bon Jovi.

It was an election year, 2004, and John Kerry was the Democrat running for office. And JBJ was in town to, I don’t know, I suppose play a few songs for the college kids and get middle aged people pumped up for Kerry.

“It’s my life. It’s now or never. I ain’t gonna live forever. I just want you to vote for Kerry next month. Its. My. Life.” [talk box vocals sound]

I care about Jon Bon Jovi as much as I care about my coffee table but I was drinking gin and tonics and I knew who he was so when someone at Brother’s Bar told me this global celebrity was half a block away, I told Mike the bartender to close my tab — I had to go see about a Bon Jovi.

“Son of a bitch [kinda] stole my line.” — Robin Williams

So on this fine October night I got up off the barstool and flip flopped my way to the Bodega (or The Dagobah System, as we called it) to see if I could slip into Bon Jovi’s world for a minute. I was wearing a Red Sox hat, some jeans, a white hoodie and Adidas sandals. I had a flip phone at the time. All this will be relevant momentarily.

I get to the Dagobah System and see a bartender I know named John so I go up to him and ask for two Hacker Pschorr’s and soon received said order. With two cloudy weisse beers in tow I saunter on over to this intimate circle of humanity surrounding a small man with large hair. I lock eyes with Jon and say “Hey, Jon. I bought you a beer.” He raised his hand casually, waved at me and said, “No thanks, man.” And like that, my brush with greatness was over. Like Lisa Fischer in 20 Feet From Stardom I was close to the front man, the center of the room, the big hair, but at the same time, I was so far away.

So there I was, 20 drinks from sobriety, and I had two Bavarian beers in my hand. I drank them, and walked back to my apartment.

Sometimes I wonder what might have been. What if Jon invited me into his circle, pulled up a chair, and said, “I will take that beer, stranger.” This may have opened a door for me to tell him about my various interests and perhaps he would have found that my personality and makeup would have made for a perfect driver, or overseer of his children.

Anyway, on the way back to my place, I misplaced my Red Sox hat, my jeans, a white hoodie and a pair of black Adidas sandals, and my flip phone. I know who is to blame for all of that and I accepted responsibility then, and I accept this outcome 20 years later. The great mystery, however, is what happened to that cell phone? The jeans, hat, hoodie and sandals were all recovered within a three block radius but the flip phone was lost forever.

I had a theory for a while that I gifted it to Jon Bon during our brief exchange and just forgot about it. And he gave it to Richie Sambora who gave it to his wife, Heather Locklear — and Heather Locklear was somewhere in the world, for a moment, just one moment, flipping down her new flip phone and dialing her old employee Alison Parker from TV’s Melrose Place. Perhaps my phone was inspiration for Sambora’s solo album Aftermath of The Low Down. It’s all hard to say, and I’m just speculating right now. But one thing is for certain. Very few good things have ever transpired on the heels of an all-you-can-drink Thursday night in La Crosse, Wisconsin.