It was twenty-one years ago this exact week when I met Jani Lane.  I was in a urinal.  My band was playing a large rock club in Sioux Falls, and I was on break.  He parked himself in the urinal next to mine.  We exchanged the normal band pleasantries and compliments.  They had been at the local arena on tour with Poison, and they were done with their short opening set, and came out to party.  I asked if they'd like to get up and play some stuff with us, and to my surprise, he was really excited about it.  He said they had to do the same short list of songs every single night and it would be fun to play ANYTHING else.  He went an grabbed the rest of the band, and we met up in the dressing room to figure out what we could all play together.  Their bass player was already drunk off his ass, and to honest, a total dick that night, so we counted him out, and finally we just said, "Let's just go up there and wing it."  We started calling out songs, and keys, and just letting it rip.  From ZZ Top to Steppenwolf, to whatever we called out, we had a blast.  Word had traveled fast that they were at the bar, and people were pushing up against the stage.
 

     Jani had grabbed my wireless microphone when we started.  I warned him that it was pretty road weary, and that he should be careful with it.  He laughed and said, "If I break it, I'll buy it."  He had all the L.A. front man moves.  And somewhere in the middle of one of the songs, he flipped the microphone, and it broke in two - right above the battery compartment.  The look on his face was priceless.  (I fixed the mic.  He didn't have to buy it.)

     Probably the best part of the night, was when he jumped behind the drums.  He told me he had been a drummer for 10 years before he became a front man.  He played three or four numbers flawlessly, including Radar Love by Golden Earring.  He was smiling ear to ear the whole time.  We played just short of an hour.  After all was said and done, there was a lot of shots, back slapping, handshaking, and with the exception of their coked-out bodyguard wanting to beat up everyone in the place, a marvelous time was had by all.  I think we even exchanged contact info.  Of all the guys in the Warrant band, he was the most personable, and honestly, seemed to have the smallest ego.

     A couple weeks later Rolling Stone panned their new disc, Cherry Pie, and I mean they were downright vicious, calling them "New Kids on the Block with nipple length hair."  Damn shame, because in that brief time on stage, I really got to like him and Erik, their guitar player.  They were the type of guys you wanted to root for, because they were just like us, just better looking.  Jani died at 47 - I am the same age. Today I toast him.