Santiago, Chile

Having got a relatively early night considering the standards of being on the road, I was looking forward to a good long sleep and a little lie in, especially as it's Saturday and we don't leave for the airport until half ten. But my body clock has other ideas, awakening me at half past five, a mere four hours after I went to bed. I try and get back to sleep but slumber doesn't come so I reluctantly accept that I may as well get on with my day. By 7am I'm showered and packed, so fire up the laptop and get on with some work, tidying up a press release, answering emails, sending cuttings round to various artists and managers and uploading photos of these crazy few days.

At breakfast I learn that a few people, Alex included, were up until gone 3am and John apparently hasn't yet made it to bed, so it's not just me who's tired when we all convene at 10.30 for the transfer to the airport. We take a van ahead of the band with Todd and a couple of pilot friends of Bruce who arrived yesterday for the show. Monkey and Patton are not only senior members of the US military, but also gregarious, loud, hard-partying Texans who I met last year in San Antonio and have a prodigious appetite for beer-drinking. I can tell from their eyes that last night was no exception!

We get to the plane and all climb on board. It's Alex's first time on board the band's private plane so he orders a Jack Daniels and coke to get in the rock'n'roll spirit while I opt for a sandwich and a bottle of water like a good boy. The flight is just over two hours long and with the band captive on board it's a good chance to get some interviews done, so once we're airborne a game of musical chairs commences as various band members, managers, tour managers, film crew, photographers, journalists and myself all conduct meetings and interviews in different parts of the plane.

As we approach Chile the Andes soar upwards to meet the plane, the highest peak reaching to 25,000 feet. We're flying at 30,000 so the views as we skim the mountains are stunning. People move from side to side of the plane taking photos and soon we're told to get back in our seats and belt up as we begin the descent. Fortunately by the time we land Alex has completed three more interviews which means we only have Bruce to go and he offers to do his at the hotel later if there's time before the press conference.

We touch down and as usual there are loads of ground crew all with cameras waiting for us. We get taken to the terminal and as we drive across the tarmac, the fans waiting by the perimeter fence spot us and start screaming and waving flags, before running towards the building. Inside, just past immigration, they seem to have shut the airport to escort us all through and it's deserted but soon a rumbling, thundering sound is heard and then above us, on a glass runway, hundreds of fans who've made it this far start banging on the glass and shouting the band's name. Outside again, there's hundreds more fans and we are put on a bus to ferry us to the waiting cars but with impeccable timing, the doors break down and we are stuck on a bus going nowhere in front of the chanting crowd.

Eventually they get us moving and we travel maybe a hundred yards before the driver stops on the tarmac, where we stay for ten minutes for no discernible reason. To lighten the mood Bruce produces a plastic yellow kazoo and starts belting out the Benny Hill theme.

We finally reach the cars and leave the airport heading towards Santiago, the capital city of Chile. At first the scenery is all flat and dusty and we drive down long straight highways until we reach a tunnel. Once out the other side we enter the city and soon pull up at the hotel, where hordes more fans are all waiting.

The motorcade sweeps around the corner with the fans in hot pursuit and then goes down into the underground carpark, but our van is too big to follow the cars and has to stop. Bruce is travelling with us and the fans start banging on the windows and taking photos. "Broooose, Broooose" they chorus before the driver sets off again and drives back to the front entrance. We make it there just ahead of the fans and Bruce get inside moments before being mobbed.

By now it's almost 5pm and we're meant to be rushing straight into a press conference but check in takes ages, so the press conference doesn't start til nearly 6pm and when it's done Bruce disappears for a break so Alex, Rod, Monkey, Patton, Tom and I all head up to the lounge on the 21st floor to grab some food. Out of the windows the Santiago skyline of mountains and skyscrapers is laid before us and as the sun sets the mountains are suffused with a warm dusky glow.

Finally around 9pm Bruce is ready so we head down to the poolside bar and he and Alex hide away at a distant table to do their interview while we all have a few drinks. By this time John and Todd have joined us along with Zeb, Natasha, Ash, Griff and various other road crew. But Patton and Monkey have the demon upon them and as the rain starts to fall they are intent on heading into Santiago and painting the town red, white and blue.

By the time Alex finishes his interview with Bruce it's almost 11pm, the rain has become torrential and we've all succumbed to the Yankee mischief and decided we'll accompany them to find a bar. So Tom, John, Monkey, Patton, Alex and myself grab a couple of cabs and head off to a place John's been to before called Flannerys.

We get inside and it seems really dead, so John determines, "One drink and then we move on!". Just as we're finishing up we notice a back stairs and decide to have a peek and see if there's anyone on the second level. It's like peeling back a velvet curtain and discovering a whole new world of joy.

This is the best karaoke joint on the planet. Or at least it is now we've arrived! The first guy to get up sings 'Thunderstruck' by AC/DC and is astounding. He sounds better than Brian Johnson himself and sets the tone for the night. Having had quite a few sherberts by this point, our applause is deafening. And he's followed by a slew of other fine singers tackling the likes of Black Sabbath, Journey, Bon Jovi and U2. An old guy gets up on stage and gets the whole place jumping with an inspired version of Black Eyed Peas, 'I Gotta Feeling' and before we know it Patton is on stage crooning a very respectable version of The Commodores 'Easy'.

Not to be outdone I'm soon up there belting out 'Don't You Forget About Me' to a rapturous reception from our gang. Monkey orders round after round and soon we're all singing along to Queen's 'Fat Bottomed Girls' and blasting out 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. Patton grabs the mic again for an impassioned 'Creep' and the night gets wilder and wilder as we sing ourselves hoarse, dance on the tables, cheer other singers at the top of our voices and generally rock the joint so hard it hurts.

Never ones to know when to stop we're still going strong at 3am when they shut the bar and we're kicked onto the street in torrential rain. Fortunately we flag down some cabs and make it back to the hotel, drenched, drunk and delirious. I can hardly speak...