Guns N Roses Bar

Brian Denofrio and the rest of the Borden dudes, I wish you were with me last night. Imagine this:
You're in Saigon, the southern-most Vietnamese city where the US GIs lived for years and discovered drugs and a people who refuse to surrender. You're in a frantic city surrounded by the jungle. You can smell the Mekong river, your passage to Cambodia and a lucid Marlon Brando. You walk out of your geko-filled hotel and a Vietnamese man in rags carrying a basket of photocopied books starts offering you drugs. With each "no, thank you," he offers harder and harder drugs until you're hearing things you've never heard before. You walk down the street and are blinded by a neon sign reading "Guns N Roses Bar." You walk in as Axl's singing, "you know where you are?" and, for the first time, you have the appropriate answer. The woman behind the bar speaks no English but she listens to Appetite on repeat everynight, so she must be some kind of God. All around you it's dark, dirty, sleazy- the way it should be. There are red lights flashing about the bar showing roses. As you look around the pool table, here are painted murals on the walls of the boys circa 87. There's one TV in the joint and it's showing Selma Hyak do a striptease right before she turns into a vampire and all hell breaks loose. You but a beer for 50cents and, for once, that price isn't followed by the word "night." Periodically, groups from all over the world come in, buy a beer, shake their fists to the music and pay their respects to the greatest band ever. But, unlike you, they leave. You know you're here until Axl says, "I know that you're mine," and puts Rocket Queen to bed. Even then, you may leave, but this place will be here waiting for you.