BREAK UP NOW! BREAK UP NOW!

So, my band The Daggers was playing a friday night gig at this local shithole we loved called The Big Horse. It was a taco stand/rock club, the kinda place were you could get away with pretty much anything as long as the bartenders were making good coin. As we pulled up the street we saw that they had Milwaukee avenue blocked off. "What the fuck.." Christian murmured and swung the suburban into the alley and we parked. Turns out, the Rolling Stones, who were in town to play Soldier Field, were gonna play an 'unannounced gig' at the Double Door, which was like three doors down from the Horse. We went out front and there was a camera line set up and a red carpet going into the Double Door. So much for 'unannounced'.
Never the type of band to put musical performance ahead of good, old anarchy; we sent a buddy of ours to stand outside and keep an ear on the Stones and to come let us know when they were done. We were gonna heckle the Rolling Stones.
The other bands played and we wandered in and out to watch the goofballs lining Milwaukee avenue. I saw Roger Ebert and Oprah going in. She wasn't interested in coming to the punk show, despite my loud pleadings. When it was our turn, we set up the shit and The Stones were still playing. We launched into our set and we were wailing our way through it, when our lookout came running up to the stage to tell us the Rolling Stones were done.
We threw done our equipment and along with the entire crowd, all the other bands, and even the Horse waitstaff went pouring outside and TOOK OVER one side of the red carpet line leading to the limos lining the street. All the punks elbowed, shimmied, and clawed their ways into the best possible spots. I climbed a bus stop sign and was hanging over one of the limos. Sure enough, they began to come out, one at a time, with a chick each; real, live Rolling Stones. And each time, our chant would swell louder and louder, "BREAK UP NOW! BREAK UP NOW!", until it was all you could hear. "BREAK UP NOW!!! BREAK UP NOW!!!"
First was Charlie. "Break up NOW! Break up NOW!".
Then came Ron, "Break up NOW!! Break up NOW!!!"
The, out sauntered Mick, "BREAK UP NOW! BREAK UP NOW!"
Then, looking like an absolute undead corpse, out stumbled Keith Richards. He had a drink and a smoke in his hand and a tramp under his arm and he was WALKING RIGHT TOWARDS ME! I was hanging two feet from Keith Richards' limo! He was closing in, I had to think fast, I had to make an imprint on Keith Richards. The crowd was at a fever pitch, "BREAK UP NOW!!! BREAK UP NOW!!! BREAK UP NOW!!!" He opened his limo door, about level with my knee and looked up at me.
I did what came naturally. "FUCK YOU, KEITH!!!!" I screamed right in his face, flipping him the bird at the same time.
He gave my the funniest look, a combination of terror, and "what this bloke's problem, then, mate?".
Why did I feel the need to flip off Keith Richards and say fuck you to him and to chant at them to break up now, you ask?
My answer is simple. I've never seen the Rolling Stones live, but millions of people have and you might be one of them. But, they don't remember you. But, sometime, somewhere, Keith Richards will remember me.