My Ozzy story:
July 17, 1981.
I was a drummer in a metal band from Edmonton. As such, we used to have a few girls hanging around. One was a legendary groupie who was well connected. After the concert, she suggested that we head over to the Four Seasons hotel, as she knew that they were staying there. We walk into the lobby, and there they all are, sitting in the Piano bar. I walked right over and asked Ozzy if we could visit. Their manager came up and said "c'mon, guys, what the f**k are you doing?" I stood up to leave, when a younger looking blonde guy said "let them stay, they're not hurting anybody." It was Randy Rhoads. We went up to their hotel room and hung around for about 3 hours. I thanked Randy, and he said "no worries, I was in your place just a few years ago". I also met my absolute hero, drummer Tommy Aldridge, whom I admired even more than Neil Peart. They were all great, but Ozzy was a maniac. He ordered a whole tray of Salt and Pepper shakers, which he smashed every one of them with a nine iron. Rudy Sarzo sent me down to their band bus, the same one that Randy and their hairdresser collided with in a plane, to grab his base guitar. I couldn't believe it. I was floating on air at that point. They drank and did so much cocaine (not Randy, though), that you'd think it was the end of the tour. Afterwards, Ozzy said "Ok you guys, get the f**k out", which we did. Randy and Rudy just gave me a knowing glance and Randy said "take it easy, I hope you make it". He was a great guy in my short experience. I'll never forget that day. Less than a year later, I of course heard the tragic news that he died when they were f'n around in the plane and he was killed in a collision with the bus. I was heartbroken, but thankful for the short time that I was exposed to a world that I never though I'd see.
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