| My friends and I were at the first concert of the new tour. It was taking place at the Orange County Fair. The concert was indoors, in a building that looked just like Central Auditorium. They played the whole TWS show, with an addition to the medley. It was called “Home Cookin’”, and it featured Al in a denim jumpsuit singing about revolting cooking. After the show, my and my pals all went backstage to see the guys. They weren’t there, so we snuck into the bus and started discussing the concert. (The bus looked like a slightly warped school bus.) The doors slid open, and the crew and band staggered onto the bus, looking dead on their feet. They all flopped down in their seats as the driver started the bus. Five minutes later, they all realized that there were a bunch of unauthorized fans on the bus. “WHOA!” The bus slid to a halt. “Out of the bus. Please. Now.” ordered a crew member. I bent down to pick up my stuff, which had scattered all over the place. It took forever, but I finally stuffed all of it in my bag and started to sit up- CLANG. The bus doors slid shut again, and the bus roared to life. I started panicking, because I knew that all of the crew and band would be really, really upset when they found me still on the bus. As I sat there, quietly panicking, they found me. We were already on the highway, so we couldn’t stop. Instead, a crew member took me by the arm and sat me down in the back of the bus, behind some sheets that had been pulled up so that there was some privacy for whoever happened to be back there. I sat in my chair and quivered in fear. Then Steve came in. He looked at me, confused and upset. “Why…why in heaven’s name are you still here?” Blushing furiously, I told him the whole story. At the end, I told him that I was really, really, incredibly sorry about the whole thing and that I didn’t mean to stow away. (I think I had tears in my eyes.) Steve must have felt sorry for me, because he sat down next to me and attempted to cheer me up by seeing how low our voices could go. (In real life, I’m an alto, bordering on tenor.) We traveled for a long time. Steve and I sat in the back the whole way, talking and bonding (can I hear an Awwwww…) and eventually we got to the hotel. As we pulled into the parking lot, the crew tore down the sheets and I saw Al ducking down in his seat, hiding from the people outside. The crew and band filed off the bus, leaving me and Al. Al turned around in his seat and looked questioningly at me. “I heard your and Steve’s conversation…” I started blushing again. “Why did you come all the way from Iowa just to see a concert?” What a question. “Well…when you five go onstage…it’s…it’s…it’s indescribably thrilling.” My, I’m eloquent. Just then, the bus doors opened again and the crew and band filed on again, holding suitcases. I guess their luggage had been lost, and it had appeared at the hotel. Al sent me to go sit up front with the driver. The driver had a trainee with him. The trainee had his very own little steering wheel and mockup of the consoles, and he was learning to drive. A few days later, I was still with the band. Al had decided that I’d make a good gofer, and who was I to argue? The bus was parked in a parking lot of a mall, and I was attempting to defend the bus from rampaging grocery carts. (It was windy, and they were all headed for the bus.) I deflected one, and it skidded over to an expensive-looking car and left a big, nasty scratch down the side. The driver of the car-a big, burly, mustached man-got out and began screaming at me about how horrible I was, and that he was pressing charges. Al, who had just come out of the mall, came over and told me how mad he was at me. Then he fired me. He got on the bus and it drove away, leaving me sitting on the curb with tears rolling down my cheeks. My Take On It Next Dream |
| It'll All End In Tears... 02/07/02 |