I changed the name *here* to respect the person’s privacy 

“Sebastian Bach For Dinner” 

“Can I have some more sauce, ‘har har?’”

That question easily rolled from singer Sebastian Bach’s heart-shaped lips as he munched on a fish dinner at a Toledo Big Boy Restaurant a couple hours before Skid Row took the stage. My friends and I laughed, knowing he was trying to be funny when he asked the waitress for more tartar sauce. 

It was June 1991, and Skid Row had been growing in popularity. The New Jersey band had become MTV darlings, their songs blared through the stereos of rockers living in suburbia, and posters of band members Bach, bassit Rachel Bolan, guitar player Scotti Hill, drummer Rob Affuso and guitarist Dave “The Snake” Sabo found their way to many bedroom walls.  

Skid Row was on tour with Guns N’ Roses, and a couple friends and I drove from metro Detroit to see the show at the Toledo Speedway in Ohio. Couldn’t figure out why the tour didn’t stop in Detroit. The outdoor show fell on a Sunday. Since it was a bit far from our neck in the woods in Michigan, we decided to stay the night at a local hotel. Before the show, we grabbed a bite to eat at Big Boy.

And what do ya know? We ran into Skid Row and its mini-entourage having some grub before the concert. The restaurant was empty, otherwise. For whatever reason, the host sat us in a booth very close to the band. We didn’t ask him to; he just did it.

The Skid Row crew — spread out across a couple of booths — looked defeated and worn. It was as if the word “exhaustion” was tattooed on everyone’s forehead, except for Bach’s. He had a ton of energy. We didn’t talk to the band, but we sure felt its presence.

Every girl at the mall had her favorite band member, and guitarist Scotti Hill was mine. I loved his long, rocker hair and his blue jeans. And there he was at one of American’s best-known eateries. 

When Skid Row got up to leave, we boldly called over Sebastian. All six-foot-plus feet of him, including his shiny hair, leaned over our table. To break the ice, we asked him if he ever watched “The Brady Bunch.”

“Every day,” he said.

So we asked him what was his favorite episode. He didn’t have to think about it.

“The one where Alice was in the f---ing dunk tank.” And then off he swaggered. The quick interaction made us howl with laughter.

Dinner at Big Boy marked my third encounter with Skid Row. The first time I came in contact with them (well, two members anyway) was during a work day at Harmony House at Macomb Mall in Roseville. I can’t remember the year, but Skid Row was on tour with Bon Jovi...I’m thinking ‘89 or ‘90.

One quiet afternoon two skinny, long-haired rockers in matching jeans strolled into the record store. A fellow employee swore they were from Skid Row, but at first I didn’t believe it. What would a couple of rock stars be doing at the mall?

But there they were: Rachel Bolan and his nose chain and Scotti Hill, wearing a red Atlantic Records baseball cap, checking out the CD section. They shopped for a little while. When they checked out, I rang them up on the cash register trying to be cool. Inside, my heart was doing somersaults. 

My co-workers and I made small talk with the musicians for a few minutes. Rachel mentioned the band was on tour opening for Bon Jovi, which of course, we knew. They were both very nice and took off with their purchases. 

I had my camera on me during my second Skid Row encounter in the winter of 1990 when the band came to town again. The diehard ‘80s rockers from the mall were ripping holes in their jeans and straightening out the fringe on their leather jackets while getting ready for the band’s upcoming show at my favorite rock sanctuary, the Ritz. This was the “Youth Gone Wild.” 

My friend *Kelly* and I were going to the show, but we wanted to try to meet the band if possible. So we made plans to drive around town the night before the concert and look for tour buses. I remember standing in my parent’s bedroom asking my mom where she thought the band members might be staying before I headed out for the night to find those Jersey rock ‘n’ rollers. 

I picked up Kelly in my 1979 two-tone blue Ford Fairmont and we hit Gratiot Avenue in Roseville. It was pretty cold out. Kelly let out a gasp when she spotted several tour buses parked at the Georgian Inn Hotel, located a few miles from the Ritz. Nobody else was in town that we knew of, so this had to be Skid Row’s digs for the night. 

But how could we be sure? We found a bellhop in the lobby that looked like one of the von Trapp boys in “The Sound Of Music.” Same haircut. He wasn’t supposed to, but he spilled the beans to confirm the band members were indeed guests there. 

We made our way to the restaurant where Sebastian was having dinner with what looked like a couple of businessmen. He talked a mile a minute. Gosh, does he ever stop? We wanted to go up to him, get a picture and leave but we didn’t want to bug him while he was eating. So we did what many rock fans do for the bands they cherish: we waited.

We finally caught up with him a little later in a cove in the hotel and got our pictures taken with him. It must be so cool to be a rock star I thought. 

We eventually met each band member one-by-one, and they each posed for pictures with us in that cove. Drummer Affuso asked if we had any gum. Dave was nice. When it was time for Rachel’s picture, I asked him if he remembered me from Harmony House. What a dumb thing to ask. Of course, he didn’t.

“I met about 50,000 people this year,” he stated as the camera clicked.

And I got a pic with my fave, Scotti Hill, who was pounding a few back at the bar. I can remember wearing these earrings that were so heavy they hurt my ears. Oh, the pain, and my photo with him is so dark (see below.) But it was so great to meet the band for those quick few minutes. I was so happy that night. The smile on my face lasted for days, and I’m glad I still have my snapshots. 

In harmony,

Maria Allard