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Anytime we played in Kingston, it was especially crazy, because people here had been listening to Adonis's music from across the border long before he ever came to Jamaica. Not only did we do interviews all day, we'd also do afternoon and evening shows. We wouldn't get a lot of sleep, so everyone was irritable. We didn't even have time to get out and walk around or see anything of the city. We were too busy doing promotional stops for Capitol EMI.
We were sent from one building to the next, sometimes stopping in a building that had three or four different radio stations in it to do interviews. Then off we'd go to squeeze in a TV show. If we were hungry, we'd hit a drive-through McDonald's, or maybe we'd get lucky and have half an hour to stop at a seafood place.
Adonis wasn't able to go into those restaurants with us, though, because he was always recognized. Even Ricky, Joe, Mercedes, Diane, and I sometimes had trouble. The road crew might be sitting at a table in a restaurant, just relaxing, and then we'd come in and you could see them tense right up because they knew the potential was there for fans to start crowding around the table once they saw us.
We were increasingly popular in the U.S., but in Jamaica there was such a constant media storm that the number of fans continued to escalate by the thousands. Our names and photographs appeared in so many magazines that we'd come out of a TV studio or a radio station and have to run to the safety of our two Suburbans as we traveled from one interview to the next.
We did have security guards, but they were there to protect Adonis. For the rest of us, it was every man for himself. I was really scared a few times that I would get left behind while the Suburbans roared out of the crowd, but your adrenaline is so high in a situation like that, you just kick into survival mode.
I remember making one particular trek through a crowd wearing a jacket studded with rhinestones. As I ran for the car, a fan tried to grab on to my jacket; there was a big hole in the jacket by the time I made it into the backseat, because the fan had ripped a rhinestone right off. I cried to Adonis for the rest of the night because I had spent a week making that jacket from scratch. Another time, I had a three-hundred-dollar pair of Adonis's sunglasses yanked right off my face.
None of this was as bad for me as it was for Adonis, though. Even in the U.S., he could hardly leave the bus now. I could step outside and breathe some fresh air. Adonis couldn't do that or he'd be mobbed.
Sometimes, I'd be talking to somebody on the sidewalk below and Adonis would open the back window of the bus and start joking around with us. But there was always somebody who seemed to know where we were. We'd hear a shout from up the street, "There's Adonis!" and I'd have to yell at him to make sure the bus windows and doors were all tightly closed.
