I can’t say how many people attended the New Jersey Horror Con last May, but judging by the number of KISS shirts I saw, it was obvious the majority were there for Peter Criss. As a proud member of the KISS Army, I came all the way out from the suburbs of Chicago to attend, though this would not be my first time meeting him. That moment took place back in ‘94, when my friend, Jason Lucas, the man who indoctrinated me into KISS, brought me with him to a Chicago convention. This was before the band’s big Reunion in ’96 and at a time when KISS’ estranged original drummer was, by my observation, NOT in a good headspace. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that, back then, he was something of a jerk. Even before the days of social media, stories swirled among fans about Criss’s cantankerous nature and his animosity towards his former band. Jason told me a story about how when one of his friends brought a KISS item for Criss to sign, he wrote on it, “F— You! Peter Criss.”